A GLC SHIELD XL Tale
by grelber37
Summary: The GLC are the Great Lakes Champions. In this tale, trouble visits their neck of the woods soon after a concerned citizen contacts the Champions. Soon, Phil Coulson and his SHIELD buddies are also involved. Please enjoy this yarn emulating the tone and style of GLA: Misassembled.
1. Chapter 1: That's Cold, Man

**Chapter 1: That's Cold, Man**

Brutal, frigid wind jostles Craig Hollis's unkempt blond hair as he his chilled legs move him across the frozen bay. It jerks his breath away in a thick white column. Hollis smiles, for he will not die here. Not from hypothermia nor pneumonia nor anything. At least not permanently. In civilian attire, Mr. Immortal makes his way toward the ice shanties a half-mile off the shore. His source sits in one of them.

Recently, she snail-mailed him in Milwaukee, where he resides at Great Lakes Champions headquarters. Supposedly, some resourceful criminals might be monitoring her e-mail. The letter said to meet her seventy-five miles north of Milwaukee on this early February morn. The source's name is Lynn Michaels, and she is an ex-policewoman. Mr. Immortal thinks that she is rather resourceful herself.

Ever madcap, Mr. Immortal grins in the minus twenty windchill. He wonders if Quasar or Phantom Eagle ever traversed this boreal bay when they lived around here. The local legends are heroes whom journeyman Immortal greatly admires. Ahead, Hollis sees hearty, happy folk having their annual ice fisheree. There must be at least one hundred people on Lake Winnebago today, out on the solid water. Over the cold air, their snowmobiles and augers whir beneath the black smoke from heaters and grills. Pick-up trucks go to-and-fro between the shoreline and the city of shanties upon Miller's Bay. Craig is nearly to the large tents set-up for the festival. He passes racks of walleye and crappie caught this morning. They will be food later. For now, there are brats with sauerkraut and cheddar-topped burgers in the beertent. Ashley Crawford sits in the beertent making friends and eating. Secretly, the supermodel does like her food. Around her, the men like her, and the women find her charming. Hollis gives his friend a wink while passing. She winks back. The Great Lake Champions have each other's backs as Immortal approaches Michaels's shanty for this mysterious meeting.

Behind Hollis, another person has his back. A skulking figure has followed him since he left shore. He walked onto the ice for about five hundred feet; then, she exited a non-descript pick-up's passenger side. Concealed in a parka, she tails the hero as he moseys.

The pick-up looks like most any other truck on the shore on this day dedicated to outdoorsmen. The truck's driver looks through the cab's window into the covered bed. He asks, "Do we know the blond guy?"

"That is Mr. Immortal out-of-costume," a voice answers, "I suspect that he goes to see Lynn Michaels. This development is unexpected. I did not know that she contacted anyone. However, our operation continues as planned. Hilda will do her part. The Great Lakes Champions will trace nothing back to us."

The driver adds, "And, our men down south will soon find out who Michaels all contacted."

"That would be correct, Brian. They should be currently at her family's farm near Madison," the concealed person confirms.

"Lynn Michaels," Lynn Michaels shakes Craig Hollis's hand. Both have strong grips. Just outside Lynn's shanty, there are two shadows. One is behind Mr. Immortal in the ten o'clock sun. The other is flush against the structure. Michaels does not even notice Doorman beside her shanty. Hopefully, no possible bad guys see him either.

Craig has a seat in the heated shanty. Ever warm-blooded, Mr. Immortal flirts a bit, "This is a nice place that you have here. It is a perfect location to exchange intelligence and to whisper secrets." He playfully nudges her boot with his in the close quarters.

Lynn sniffs. She is either physically cold or socially unimpressed, "Thank you, sir. I selected it because it is out-of-the-way and hard-to-get-to. Unfriendly parties are unlikely to bother or to eavesdrop. The high, harsh winds even help us today."

"Yeah, who the hell would follow someone out here?" the champion chuckles.

A raven parka approaches the tents. Beery Ashley does not notice the woman passing through. Hilda is dressed like any other sportsman on the ice today. She draws no attention. She draws nearer to the shanty.

Within, Craig and Lynn continue their conversation. He speaks, "The GLC did a background check on you, naturally. You are a former NYPD detective who retired to rural Iowa County, Wisconsin, awhile back. That is interesting."

"I left New York City because of the Punisher," Lynn decides to simply explain, "In fact, I was the Lady Punisher for awhile participating in lethal vigilantism right along Frank Castle. However, the day came when Punisher's war had me weary. A fellow rogue officer and I fled to the Madison area where I am from. Eddie Dyson—a.k.a. Payback—was also a Punisher-imitator. He and I settled-down with my father on a dairy farm. "

The amateur champion is a wee wide-eyed, "Wow, that is quite a story. I only knew that you were an ex-cop. I'm not sure what to say. . . . ."

"Should I tell you why I contacted someone in the costumed community?" Det. Michaels keeps the conversation on track, "Well, an ex-detective often monitors the internet during her spare time. A trained eye can spot plenty of suspicious activity in cyberspace. Then, she can pass information onto the proper parties. Normally, the police or FBI will do. However, some potential threats require masked marvels such as Wisconsin's own Great Lakes Champions. Therefore, I wrote you guys a letter for a face-to-face. I did not want certain information going through the web. Our bad guys are kind of tech-savvy."

A parka unzips nearly to the shanty. Hilda wears some sort of device on her chest. Camouflaged, Doorman narrows his eyes to see clearly. Deathurge's replacement, he senses death fast approaching.

Lynn's coat unzips slightly, and she reaches for a small device inside. "What do you have?" Craig asks.

"A flash. . . . ." her voice begins to say "flashdrive". However, the informant never gets to provide her information. The shack's door whips open wide.

"Hail, Hate-Monger!" a crazed-eyed burly blonde screams. Her open coat frames the crapload of explosives upon her torso. Mr. Immortal's jaw drops. He shields Michaels. Lady Punisher gasps. Alert, Doorman tackles Hilda just as her thumb depresses a detonator. The massive explosion begins right as Doorman envelops the suicide bomber in darkforce. He teleports her away.

A partial explosion shivers the shanty and sends substantial splinters through Mr. Immortal's back. A flash of fire consumes Craig and Lynn, and their clothing ignites. The concussion propels them a hundred feet through the air, and they skip harshly like stones over the ice when they finally land. With supreme effort, the champion has held onto his charge. Craig coughs blood onto Lynn from his internal bleeding. She is about to comfort him. Then, Doorman and the madwoman materialize upon the bay's shore.

Doorman can only teleport short distances. In this case, he took Hilda a half-mile from the fisheree. Considerately, he aimed his teleportation away from the occupied parking lot. There are many people waiting to get out on the ice this fine February day. Instead of west, Doorman moved the main massive explosion to the bay's south shore where sit many tall pines and a rocky border. The soft wood and hard earth go airborne. Shoreline ice joins. Some debris flies into the surrounding park area mostly abandoned during winter. It plunges into deep, giving snow.

Great debris crashes upon the gathered fishermen. It cuts and stabs them. It bruises and breaks their bodies. Ashley Crawford transforms into Big Bertha. She shields who she can with her big body. In the chaos, the earth and ice shakes. On the shore, a psychotic man smirks hidden in a covered truckbed. Hero Doorman and minion Hilda are seemingly blown into oblivion.

The earth quakes. And, the solid ice does too. Instantly, it heaves high in places. Thunderous, ominous cracks and snaps are heard amongst the crowd. People panic and rush for shore. They slip on the ice. They fall over each other. They foolishly hesitate wondering whether to gun their weighty trucks and snowmobiles over the breaking bay. What is the best way to escape? They hesitate to leave the wounded upon the collapsing lake. Others will not leave their loved ones. A ways away, Lynn Michaels will not leave honorable Mr. Immortal. Body aching badly, she holds him as she sees and hears a great fissure approaching.

Then, disaster strikes. Over the water, the frozen firmament gives way. A hundred souls are in the winter water drowning and freezing to death. Broken ice buffets them as they struggle toward solid ground with stiffening bodies in the debacle. On shore, emergency personnel see the mass casualty before them. They hear the desperate screams as the unforgiving wind blows over their petrified faces. Luckily, the first responders are very well-trained and capable men and women. They dispatch the few hovercraft and boats available into the lake. Granted, they cannot bring one hundred citizens to safety at once. So, they swiftly summon help from the surrounding area such as Green Bay and Milwaukee. The cavalry could take awhile to arrive, though. The rescuers could use help right now.

Two Champions do their best to provide it. Only Big Bertha and Flatman are functional after the attack. Big Bertha emulates a giant raft floating in the water, and the dying gratefully cling to her like a lifeboat. Flatman is in the water too. The flexible hero was Mr. Immortal's back-up beneath the ice. His super-stretchable wetsuit protects him in the gelid lake. Smartly, Flatman thinks of wrapping around Bertha while she moves toward the bank. He is a strong twenty-foot tether behind her, and further desperate hands grab hold. Like an odobenine giant, Bertha pulls a mass of humanity toward safety. Rescue divers enter the depths to search for submerged victims. When he can, Flatman helps look. His malleable body even allows him into locked vehicles and tight places in which people are pinned. But, this calamity is a bad situation. Local hospitals will be overwhelmed with the ambulances leaving the mass triage in the parking lot.

Brian Calusky and William Cross sit in their truck observing. Calusky is also called Piledriver. Cross is also called Crossfire. The driver comments on the chaos, "Damn, that huge explosion was supposed to be out on the bay. It was supposed to kill more people. . . . ."

"Including our target Lynn Michaels," the evil genius completes the thug's thought.

"What now?" the one-man Wrecking Crew asks, "Do I go take care of Big Bertha and Flatman?"

"No, we have enough casualties," Crossfire comments, "I suspect that Lady Punisher might be one of them despite the Great Lakes Chumps' efforts."

"You didn't anticipate them?"

"No," Crossfire shoots tersely, "Michaels must have contacted them in an unusual way of which I had not thought."

"Oh," Brian breaks open a schnapps bottle and belts some on this cold day. Nearby cops seem awfully busy at the moment. The driver won't get into any trouble.

From the back, Crossfire takes the bottle, "Let us drink to an operation well-executed. The target has probably died. And, Constrictor got us a good patsy out of Racine. That she-thug was simple for me to brainwash. She did her job. We did ours. And, the terror attack won't even be traced back to me."

"Hail, Hate-Monger!" Piledriver guffaws.

"That's right. Most likely, people did not even hear that uttered before the explosion. But, if they did, they will hunt-down one of the Hate-Mongers, all of whom are apparently dead," Crossfire hands back the bottle, "Let's get on the road."

"To Madison?" Calusky does a swig for the road.

"Soon. We can find out how our two associates did in Iowa County. However, we have one stop before the Cross family's hometown," William Cross settles back into the truckbed. The vehicle begins moving. It leaves the scene of the incident without a cop even stopping it. In some places, local police are just not ready for a terror attack.

Mr. Immortal witnesses the truck's departure though. He sees it just as he emerges from the water with Lynn barely alive. His fatal wounds have healed. Mr. Immortal is not sure if Crossfire's departing truck is significant or not. He does know that Miss Michaels needs attention though. Paramedics clear water from her lungs and begin resuscitating her immediately. She does not immediately regain consciousness, however. An ambulance transports her away.

A non-descript pick-up passes Gruenwald Avenue and heads northward. It enters a large brick warehouse near the edge of town. Brian Calusky stops the vehicle over a floorgrate. Crossfire and he hop-out. Nearby, there is a non-descript sedan with tinted windows.

"Now what?" Piledriver asks.

"Have you ever heard of Bruno Horgan?" Crossfire asks back.

"He had a humble reputation among us supervillains," Piledriver shrugs, "Horgan went by 'Melter'. He fought Iron Man a bunch of times. Then, he died."

"Well, his tech is going to help us destroy this truck associated with a terrorist attack," Crossfire pops the hood. From the back, he produces a device. He attaches the device to the engine block. Major microwaves turn solid steel into molten mush. A melted motor vehicle cascades into the grate where authorities won't even think to look for it. The two criminals get into the inconspicuous car. Crossfire gazes out the tinted window that obscures his cybernetic eye. Piledriver turns on the radio. The station reports on the lake tragedy.

At the lake tragedy, Craig Hollis tells an arriving SHIELD agent what Hilda said. Hate-Monger's followers appear to be behind this attack. Also, Hollis mentions spotting a flashdrive in Lynn's hand before the explosion. The good guys must some-how-some-way retrieve that device from the lake. Agent Tia Senyaka (see _Daredevil_ #377-379) assures Mr. Immortal that SHIELD will act to bring guilty parties to justice. Fellow champions Big Bertha and Flatman appreciate that reassurance too. Doorman is nowhere to be seen. He might be dead.

On the ten o'clock news, the media discusses Hilda Altman of Racine. News outlets discuss also a manifesto apparently from Altman. They received it soon after the attack. In it, Hilda shares her apparent love of Hate-Monger and his philosophies. Altman was notably a member of the Racine Ramjets roller derby team (see _Dazzler_ # 35), and former teammates express their disbelief in interview after interview throughout the evening. U.S. Sen. Jeff Knudsen of Wisconsin (see _Sentinel_ LS) is likewise a busy commentator throughout the evening. He reassures the public and vows justice. SHIELD knows that it has to get to work.


	2. Chapter 2: A Winter's Whupping

**Chapter 2: A Winter's Whupping**

"Well, I suppose. We should do our thing," ophidian eyes squint in the harsh wind. Constrictor has just lowered the binoculars from his eyes. He can see the Michaels farm from his blind three hundred feet across the road. The blind is covered by snow and branches in a thicket. The former spy doubts that Farmer Michaels and Eddie Dyson have spotted his associate and him during the hours that they have been there. Mr. Fear has out a smartphone.

"It is about time. Crossfire said to execute around now," Alan Fagan says beside him, "The three stooges texted me seconds ago. They are three miles down the road, and they can get here quickly once signaled."

Frank Schlichting removes his skimask and shakes his grizzled head, "Every operation gets stuck with a few stupid pugs. I suppose that those idiots are the dogs for this one. Be sure to supervise them once you call them."

"I know the plan," Alan Fagan steps from the snowblind and stretches his muscles. It has been eight hours sitting still in sub-zero temps. Frank and he were in position before the farmstead awakened. They watched Lynn's jeep depart with a shanty in-tow. At a briefing, Crossfire had said one female target was registered for some event up-north. The hidden agents expected her to leave. Then, two male farmers went to the barn to milk cows around 5 a.m. They worked for several hours before releasing the herd to the yard. Constrictor was glad that he would have no panicky cattle around when he whupped Dyson. Mr. Michaels went to the house. Hired man Eddie Dyson stayed in the barn. The milktruck came and went with today's load.

The two white snowsuits cross the windswept country road. Both thugs wonder if they are spotted as they go in, for both Michaels and Dyson are very competent shots with a rifle. Fagan wonders about a dog. He does not hear one. Most farms have a large one or two. The wind howls past and pelts the bad guys with stinging snowflakes.

Alan keeps things light, "Mr. Fear loves the bone-chilling."

Frank plays along, "We are both native Wisconsinites. No doubt, we both love and miss this weather when we are operating in New York." The two have safely crossed the road. Up the driveway, their eyes scan for snipers.

White vapor escapes white teeth in Fagan's white ski-mask, "Yeah, I grew-up in Madison. In fact, my family knew the Crosses such as William, our employer, also known as Crossfire."

"Yeah, your uncle Larry Cranston did his pre-law at Madison at the same time that Darren Cross, William's cousin, studied business. Later, Larry went to Columbia for graduate studies, and Darren went to the Fox Valley for the same," the former SHIELD agent reveals his intelligence.

"Bill used a homecoming as a selling point for this job," Fear states.

"He did the same here. I'm from Racine. It'll good to visit family after this job," Constrictor states.

The blackguards in white reach the driveway's end. To the left, the farmhouse has Farmer Michaels inside. It contains also hard-drives and other stored information that Crossfire wants. Mr. Fear has this assignment. To the right, the barn stands with Eddie Dyson within. Constrictor has him.

"Remember, no killing. This isn't a hit. We don't need bodies to dispose of," Constrictor says, "Other than that, go nuts. We are in the middle-of-nowhere. These a-holes are on a sideroad to a county highway."

"I bet that they thought that they would be safe out here," the terrifying Mr. Fear notes. He rushes toward the house. Constrictor pulls his costume's hood over his cold face. He shucks the white snowsuit from his black inner outfit. He rushes toward the barn.

In the barn, Eddie is in the basement milking parlor. All of a sudden, he hears someone stomp onto the old sagging wooden floors above him. Someone searches the hayloft above hastily. And, the visitor does not announce himself like a neighbor would. The old gumshoe trusts his gut. He hides.

Constrictor drops through the baleshoot into the milking parlor. The predator does not see his prey anywhere. There are calves in pens and a few full-grown cows in stanchions. Frank cannot help but to smile at the calves. They are cute. They are cuter than the bloody pulp that Frank must make of Eddie. Suddenly, someone sneezes quietly near the barn's backdoor. The dense winter air carries the sound well. Constrictor walks deliberately toward it.

Deliberately, Eddie made that slight noise to lure the intruder toward him in the tank room that stores the milk. Fortunately, Payback did not have to pump the shotgun in his hands. It is kept ready by the former Punisher associate. One never knows when someone wicked will appear. Constrictor peers around the doorframe.

"Freeze!" the ex-cop puffs into the frigid air. In a flash, Constrictor's electrified whip clefts the big iron in twain.

"Aw crap!" Eddie exclaims. Constrictor's other hand whips an indestructible cable around Payback's leg. A jerk drops Dyson on his back. The gauntlet retracts and drags Eddie toward Constrictor baring his canines like fangs. The tough seizes the quarry's overalls with both hands.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fear bursts through the home's frontdoor. He knew that it would be unlocked. Before him, Farmer Michaels does dishes at the kitchen sink. Abruptly, the old soldier throws a pot—which misses. The old arm is not what it used to be. Portly Michaels shuffles to a cupboard and opens it. Mr. Fear draws his gas gun and waits. Huffing and puffing, the white-haired balding fatso struggles to reach something on the top shelf. His knees and ankles creak.

"Are you reaching for a gun?" Mr. Fear strides forward, "Here, take mine." The thug takes the gasgun's barrel and cracks the bumpkin one with the butt. Trickling blood, the middle-aged man looks mad.

"I've killed men, punk," Michaels growls a warning.

"Well, you're killing me," Alan Fagan laughs. A pellet explodes in Michaels's face. Reflexively, he inhales. Like a cocaine snort, the chemical hits him. His eyes open wide, and he claws his face. His mouth opens wide, and he clutches his heaving chest. Then, Old Man Michaels screams mightily. The old man runs for the door still open from when Fear entered.

The white-garbed menace steps in the rabbit's way and grabs his flannel shirt with both hands. The old man whimpers into the intruder's face. Alan Fagan pulls off his skimask. Tears flood down Michaels's face, and he drops to his knees.

"Do you see my mauled mug?" the frightener asks, "My own daughter did that to me. She had men cut my face off [see _Daredevil_ #314]. This face is all skin graft. I'll give you the same experience if you don't cooperate. Understand?" Michaels loses it completely. The big body drops into the fetal position and wets itself.

Mr. Fear continues, "Michaels, your daughter put you in a bad position just like mine did me. You don't have to protect her. In fact, you just protect yourself from me. Answer my questions about your nosy daughter's recent activities. Otherwise. . . . ." Fagan indicates where his missing nose should be.

The perspiration and hyperventilation tell Fear that there will be no problems, unless Michaels has a heart attack. The faithful father will tell Fear everything: where the house's computers are, what his daughter and he discuss recently, whose name has come up. Relaxing, Alan removes his heavy winterwear and throws it over a kitchen chair. A text summons three flunkies waiting nearby. They will be ransacking the place. For the trespasser, all is going smoothly. Then, unexpectedly, something brushes his leg. Mr. Fear actually startles. But, it is only an ancient collie. Apparently, this farm has a dog after all. Perhaps, it sensed Fear, so it came to investigate. Mr. Fear chuckles at the scene. The faithful canine comforts its master quaking and crying on the floor. Well, that's touching. Fear chuckles some more.

Back in the barn, Constrictor throws Dyson right through a decrepit door across the hallway from the tank room. With a crash, Eddie goes through the wood. With a clatter, he lands hard on metal buckets and a stony floor. With a groan, he gathers his bearings. The sink room is where one washes buckets and other equipment. Unfortunately, none of the equipment is as advanced as the advanced weaponry that Constrictor is wearing. Payback might have a hard time fighting back.

A vibranium cable encircles Dyson's neck, and it chokes him like a dog. Dyson gurgles and gasps. Constrictor speaks, "I am not going to kill you, Eddie. I need to do two things. First, I need to know what you know about Lynn's recent investigations. I'm going to beat that information out of you. Second, I'm going to torture and mutilate you so that you and your buddies learn to not cross people like me." The master villain releases the tether and prepares to flog with both hands. Dual electrified metal whips whiz through the air and crack loudly upon the floor.

Eddie falls back, "Wait. May I ask a question or two?"

"No," Constrictor's charged appendage slices through a steel sink like butter.

"Is that body armor that you're wearing?" Dyson asks anyway.

"You know that it is," sizzling flail slices through cement floor.

"Does it protect your face?" scalping water fires from a pressurized sprayer. It blasts exposed nostrils, cheeks, and eyes. Constrictor tries not to scream. Payback uppercuts the blinded villain's steamed visage.

"You might have to molt after that," the hick tells the snake-man. Eddie runs past.

Constrictor blinks his aching eyes several times. He is sore. "I'm gonna slaughter you like a pig, Eddie!" he threatens.

"Come get me!" the little pig taunts the big, bad predator from the main parlor. Growling, Constrictor charges forward. Bellowing, something charges toward him too. A bull calf clips him hard into a moat—of crap. Calves are not so cute anymore. Face falls into feces, and sticky, stinky stuff splats over an awesome uniform. Constrictor jumps to his feet. In a flash, a shovel knocks him ass-backward into the manure again.

The shovel hit Constrictor square in the mask, though. So, it didn't hurt. He is okay—but really, really mad. "That's it!" Constrictor declares. A lambent lash loops the shovel's metal handle, and high voltage brings Eddie low. In the barn dirt, Eddie twitches and flops like stunned livestock. The villain retracts his superweapons. He strides toward Eddie; he stands over him.

Constrictor grabs the farmhand's coveralls and sits him upright, "Were you going to break my nose, Eddie? This is how you break a nose." A fist partially flattens a face. A man flops backward. The tough scrapes manure from his boots onto the man.

Constrictor steps back. He drops both weapons where Eddie can see them, "I got a question—or two—for you, Dyson. Are those coveralls fireproof?"

"They stop burns better than your face," jeers the farmhand.

"I should flay your damn flesh off with these," Constrictor raises his buzzing whips ominously.

"Go back to Iron Man 2," Payback fires back.

"I don't need to see a stupid movie about a stupid Avenger" Constrictor comments, "I've fought Avengers in my time. They fared better than you're going to." Charged cables criss-cross above Eddie's head. The ceiling's timbers give way. Hundreds of pounds of wood and hay plummet over Eddie.

"I hope that you can molt. You're going to need some new skin," Constrictor lobs a hot line into the hay. Instantly, an inferno blazes atop Eddie. He screams. He gags on smoke. Hands blister as they push burning material away. His gloves and sleeves ignite. Eddie tears smoldering and flaming clothing from his person. Eddie stops, drops, and rolls on the frigid, filthy floor. Thankfully, most of his body is not badly burned beneath thick coveralls, boots, pants, longjohns, woolen cap, and flannel shirt. His face and hands are a different story though. Constrictor chuckles.

To anyone's surprise, the villain actually uses a fire extinguisher upon the burning pile. He does not want any animals to burn alive. The barn's terrified cattle might die of smoke inhalation, though. So, Constrictor's concern is a little late. The sensitive cutthroat shouts through the thick smoke "Hey, Eddie, are you alive and feeling crisp?" Eddie does not answer. Constrictor can neither hear him over the panicking cattle nor see him through the miasma. Where is he? Payback awaits somewhere.

Inside the house, Mr. Michaels is very alone with Mr. Fear and three degenerates. Gasmasks cover their faces. They smash everything in sight. They are very scary. The big guy whimpers on the floor.

"You want something to cry about? I'll give you something to cry about!" a goon is irritated. He draws his .22-caliber Saturday night special.

Fagan cuffs the punk like a child, "If you do it, I'll shoot you with this. Then, you can be blubbering on the floor with fatso." Fear presents his gasgun.

Johnny re-adjusts his gasmask, "I ain't afraid of nothing! We Sons ain't afraid of nothing. The Sons of. . . . . ARGK!"

Mr. Fear has Johnny by the throat, "Don't give away your identity, fool! If authorities know your identity, they might figure-out all of our identities. If that happened, we wouldn't be very good professional criminals, now would we? If that happened, I would have to kill you, now wouldn't I?"

"Are you going to kill him?" Andy asks sheepishly. The Sons of the Serpent are basically funks, fools, foul-ups, and followers. For example, one son is unsure what to do when a "master" villain is strangling his hissing "brother".

Mr. Fear releases the punk, "You three idiots are only along because Constrictor brought you, and he only brought you along to help ransack this place."

"How's this for ransacking? I found shit in the den," Stanley dumps papers all over the living room carpet.

"Well, pick-up that shit and get it to the van. We can't be here all day until someone shows-up," the Fagan instructs boys like Fagin does in literature.

Stanley chortles at trembling Michaels, "I saw his mail. His name's Lester J. Michaels. I'm going to call him Les 'cause he's less."

"Yeah, a-hole, y-y-you're r-r-really more than anybody," Mr. Michaels retorts from the floor. Even under fear gas, the war vet manages to jeer the invader.

Alan Fagan fairly cackles. The hurt Stanley gives Mr. Michaels the stink-eye. Johnny gives Mr. Fear the stink-eye while entering the den. Constrictor told Johnny to get the home's computer. Unexpectedly, Andy turns on the radio.

"I-I-I wanna listen to radio while we work," the simpleton announces.

The DJ announces that Valentine's Day is coming, and she starts playing "Love Stinks". Excited Andy airguitars to the song. Stanley shuffles a bit. Alan Fagan looks on amused. He considers the gasmasks and the music, and they remind him of an old music video. Mr. Fear starts to laugh and laugh over Mr. Michaels in the fetal position on the floor.

Outside, Eddie Dyson runs over the hard ground to his Bronco. His teeth chatter in the biting cold air. Over yond, he sees thugs in the house. The hard man knows that he is outnumbered, outmatched, and injured. His burnt flesh and broken nose ache terribly. He combats shock and hypothermia. He must escape and get help for Farmer Michaels. The heroic man is determined not to fail. In the truck, a shaking, seared hand turns the key in the ignition. The engine struggles to life in the cold. Suddenly, a vibranium scourge slices the driver's door off the vehicle. Eddie reaches very quickly for the truck's glovebox. There is something there. From behind, a cast coil wraps around Eddie's torso.

"This is why they call me the Constrictor. Even the Hulk can't take this punishment," Constrictor brags. The coil tightens hellaciously. Ribs compress and crack. Eddie groans white breath into the cold air. His hand lobs something at the villain's feet. Then, the handgrenade goes off. Constrictor flies skyward in a punishing cone of gravel.

Eddie guffaws and wheezes, "Payback. That's why they call me Payback."

The Bronco guns forward dragging Constrictor behind it. The snake-man's super-suit prevents roadrash. However, Constrictor still grimaces in anger. He prepares to electrify Payback to a crisp—until his shoulder meets a solidly-planted fencepost. Then, he grimaces in agony. Within his supersuit, his shoulder just pops right out. Immediately, he pops the cable right off Eddie. The Bronco makes the road, and Eddie Dyson speeds away.

A stooge approaches the groaning goon on the ground. "Did your guy get away?" Stanley queries, "That explosion was loud, so I came outside."

Constrictor cringes. He is in pain. He struggles to his knees. "How are operations in the house?" Constrictor asks the flunky.

"Better than out here, I guess. A-ha-ha-a-ha-ha!" Stanley has a good laugh at an irritated killer.

"Does the house have any schnapps or brandy? I need to pop my shoulder back in," the soldier of fortune explains.

"You shouldn't drink liquor in cold weather. It isn't healthy for you," explains the stooge. Frank grinds his teeth. Constrictor might have to squeeze the life out of someone after all.


	3. Chapter 3: You're Getting Colder

**Chapter 3: You're Getting Colder**

A stealth helicopter travels silently through the night sky. SHIELD does not wish to announce itself. At the controls, Cap. Constance Seagrum guides the aircraft over the lake-dotted rural landscape. Behind her, four other agents prepare in the cabin. It has been sixteen hours since the Winnebago fisheree attack. Hate-Monger loyalists are apparently responsible for that attack, and they have a known base in Wisconsin.

Phil Coulson speaks, "Thank you for joining us, Bobbi." Bobbi Morse sits across from Coulson.

Mockingbird holds her long bo staff in a defensive position. She locks eyes, "Don't thank, Phil. I am not really big on this Secret Avengers stuff. SHIELD screwed me the last time that I did this gig. They abandoned me on AIM Island [see _Secret Avengers_ v. 2 #8]. I am here mainly for Mr. Immortal. I am his mentor."

"Thanks, 'Bird," Immortal's elbow nudges her arm beside his.

"Well, I happen to be Mr. Immortal's fellow Wisconsinite. Bit of trivia. Manitowoc," Phil "Cheese" Coulson explains, "I am also glad to be helping."

"We are nearly to our first target," Seagrum interrupts, "It is 2 a.m. local time, and I ask that you prepare to disembark if jumping four hundred feet above Iola."

"Thanks," Spider-Woman states simply. Jessica Drew stands-up beside Coulson. She moves to the helicopter's sliding door.

"Thank you also, Jessica," says Cmdr Coulson, "SHIELD had to move quickly on this situation. After the attack, we had to summon help on short notice, and we had to arrange this raid quickly. Hurry is unideal in espionage."

"The short notice is fine," stoic Spider-Woman cracks the exit hatch, "Although, the short notice does mean that we don't get to choose this raid's time and place. The moon is nearly full, and I get to glide down in front of the damn thing."

"Well, you are this mission's muscle, so stay strong," Mr. Immortal provides encouragement.

"Yep," Spider-Woman shrugs.

"You're in position," Seagrum shouts.

Frigid air blasts the cabin. The red-garbed heroine jumps and spreads her glider wings. She disappears southward into the early morning dark. The copter loops back. Spider-Woman will get to the terrorist bunker first. She will assess initial conditions. She will eliminate any sentries and open the base for the other three to enter. Spider-Woman might even find that the location is abandoned—as it is supposed to be.

Agent 13 Sharon Carter reports that Captain America and she neutralized the Hate-Monger loyalists operating in Waupaca County in the recent past. The seditionists called themselves the Kubekult, and they stole a partially-operational Cosmic Cube from Red Skull. This particular cube contained the consciousness of the first Hate-Monger, a Hitler clone. The Hate-Monger's philosophies had inspired these neo-fascists, and they aspired to resurrect the evil leader. Under his leadership, they intended to overthrow the U.S. military. The military would then overthrow all of America's other institutions. Captain America and Agent 13 put an end to the cult's activities—seemingly permanently.

However, Hilda Altman did scream "Hail, Hate-Monger" yesterday before fanatically killing herself a mere sixty miles southeast of this compound. The Kubekult's old base needs investigating. Agent Carter provided the schematics gladly even if Cap and she could not join the mission. They are busy fighting Arnim Zola, very active in 2015.

Mr. Immortal closes the door behind Spider-Woman, "Uf-da! That air is nippy! It could practically kill a man on the spot!" The immortal exaggerates his shivering.

Mockingbird is more serious, "I hope that Jessica doesn't meet any enhanced resistance before we arrive. Apparently, our enemy uses villains such as Constrictor."

Phil reports, "Yeah, he attacked Lynn Michaels's father and associate while Altman attacked Lynn herself. Lady Punisher remains comatose, and her father remains in a panic-stricken state." The helicopter starts descending.

Mr. Immortal gets a bit more serious too, "I hope that they recover well at the hospital."

"The Madison hospital is a great one. SHIELD made sure that they got top care," Coulson reassures, "They can heal in peace. The GLC provided Big Bertha to guard them. SHIELD contacted Captain Ultra in Chicago to come help her. SHIELD agents are also present to gather information and to defend patients if need be."

"You guys also dispatched Stingray to Lake Winnebago to help Flatman. Between the two supers, they might just find that flashdrive that Lynn tried providing me," Immortal states, "They might find Doorman's remains too—if he is dead. I doubt that he is dead. He has come back before [see _GLC_ #4]."

"Yeah, the Great Lakes are down a few heroes such as Lady Punisher, Payback, and Doorman," Bobbi addresses Craig Hollis, "But, four Avengers did come running. Avengers look-out for each other."

"We're here. This is Timberline airstrip just south of the hamlet of Scandinavia, Wisconsin," Seagrum announces. The bird lands.

Light snow falls outside. The temperature has risen into single digits after the wind yesterday brought a slight weather change. Mr. Immortal enjoys the living nature around him. He inhales a cold, refreshing breath.

Coulson sucks cold air through his teeth, "Let's warm-up a bit. We get to run 1.5 miles over the fields and through the woods."

In the woods, lupine eyes watch from just outside of the compound. Mad-Dog sees Spider-Woman alight before the compound's main entrance. He growls lowly. She turns her head toward the forest.

"Come on out. I have super-hearing," Spider-Woman calls.

No one answers. No one stirs in the woods. Spider-Woman scans the thickets, but she sees nothing. She doubts that some animal just growled. More likely, a dangerous metahuman guard-dog watches over this place. She walks toward the woods. Unbeknownst to both, a spider and a dog are about to play cat and mouse. Mad-Dog slides beneath a very low evergreen bow, and he controls his breathing. He too has enhanced hearing, and he knows how the ability works. Like Spider-Woman, Mad-Dog has also a fighter in his blood. Lying prone is not easy for him. He would rather be tearing out the heroine's throat. But, Crossfire gave specific orders. Observe, but do not engage.

For eight full minutes, Spider-Woman walks amongst the trees. Sometimes, she is near Mad-Dog's hiding place. Sometimes, she is just getting colder in the light snow and single-digit temps. She hears nightbirds take flight after she disturbs them. She sees the breeze move branches in the moonlight. She senses that she is not alone in the woods and that someone observes her. But, the hero never encounters the villain. Then, sensitive ears detect three friends fast approaching. Their boots hit hard frozen dirt and brittle fallen vegetation. Mockingbird and Mr. Immortal arrive first. Cmdr Coulson trails behind them. His boot flashes past Mad-Dog's eyes, and the savage criminal considers slashing the SHIELD agent's Achilles.

No SHIELD agent is winded after a 1.5-mile sprint. "Where are you, Drew?" Mockingbird asks the dark night.

"Here I am," Spider-Woman bounds from the bushes and lands silently.

"I see that no neo-nazis are shooting at us yet," Coulson notes, "I like when bad guys are not shooting at us yet."

"We might have company. I heard something when I arrived," Spider-Woman reports, "But, I could not find the source, and the coward would not engage me."

Bared teeth grind in the bushes. War vet Buzz Baxter has never been a coward, but he has his orders. The Crosses want him to observe the heroes. The heroes are going to investigate the Kubekult here in Waupaca County. Yesterday, Crossfire framed the defunct group. The Crosses want the heroes to find nothing. They want the investigation to hit a dead end and to eventually disappear. Mad-Dog is not to engage them unless necessary.

The four eventually disappear into the cult's bunker. First, they check quickly the bunker's perimeter for guards. But, they find none, of course. Phil Coulson unlocks an entrance without tripping an alarm. Sharon Carter's intel is still good. No one has been here updating the compound's security. The four disappear into the bunker.

Like a SWAT team, the good guys search corridors, rooms, and corners. No attackers attack from the shadows. Separately, the heroes search the place high and low. The power is off. There is no Cosmic Cube operational in the entire place. Much equipment is wrecked. Hate literature and other propaganda sits gathering dust. The bunker is entirely unheated and food free. Nothing is stirring. Not even a rat.

"I'm going to dispatch some low-ranking SHIELD agents to this place," Coulson declares, "They can go over it with a fine-toothed comb. The Level One grunts can look over this place more carefully. I don't see any terrorist scumbags active here though."

"Me neither," Spider-Woman affirms, "However, I would like to stay in Scandinavia and Iola a few days. Jessica Drew should chat-up some locals and see if they have encountered anything out of the usual." The hero pulls back her mask to indicate that she will be undercover as her alter ego.

"Jessica Drew playing Nancy Drew," Mr. Immortal quips. The super-heroine shoots him a glance.

"You be undercover," Coulson agrees, "I'll send also a uniformed SHIELD agent so that citizens know that we are here. They can report anything if they wish. Or, the bad guys can show themselves if they wish. The agent's name is Veronica King [see _Irredeemable Ant-Man_ series]. She tends to be a charismatic type."

Agent Coulson, Mockingbird, and Mr. Immortal return to Constance Seagrum at the helicopter. Silently, it takes off without any civilians ever knowing that SHIELD visited. Subtly, the aircraft drops a package for Drew. SHIELD operations must move elsewhere. Someone must be behind the Wisconsin bombing. Coulson and the Avengers will find the party. But, who and where?

Mad-Dog tails Spider-Woman through the countryside to a 24-hour truck stop at Iola's edge. Out-of-costume, Jessica Drew enters and orders pancakes. She makes sure to chat-up the truckers and waitstaff around her. The dog would love to pounce upon the woman. The man-monster has a crazed aggression in his veins. And, he has been beaten and abused again and again by the superhero community. A victory over Spider-Woman might lift the cur in the social order.

However, Mad-Dog leaves instead. He breaks into a hotel room in town. Sleeping Ringleader and Throwdown are surprised to find him watching them sleep. Ringleader and Throwdown are members of the Death-Throws. And, the Cross family hired the Death-Throws to observe Iola during the day when Mad-Dog might, well, stick-out. Mad-Dog has activity to report to his fellow sneaky people. So far, the planned wild goose chase goes well. Also, Spider-Woman is in town. Mad-Dog would really, really like the Death-Throws and he to attack her.


	4. Chapter 4: I See ICU

**Chapter 4: I See ICU**

Madison's university hospital offers superlative care. And, the superheroes presently there offer great security. Big Bertha takes the day-shift beside comatose Lynn Michaels. She does so in the guise of famous model and actress Ashley Crawford. The nurses like meeting her and shooting the breeze. The overnight shift is Captain Ultra. Quite often, he gets to the hospital early. The motley-garbed comedian superhero is a hit in pediatrics and elsewhere. After entertaining, he goes to intensive care where Lynn lies.

On a different wing, SHIELD agent Tia Senyaka poses as a psychiatric nurse. Someone traumatized Mr. Michaels terribly. The distinguished veteran is catatonic when he is not incoherent and incoherent when he is not catatonic. Seemingly, someone has drugged him with a substance not easily identified. Possibly, this person was Constrictor, who attacked Michaels's farmhand. However, this drugging is not Constrictor's m.o. And, Constrictor's costume has a known bootprint. That bootprint was not any of the four found in the house where Michaels was found.

Senyaka would love to take Michaels's statement. The agent has been phoning her superior Phil Coulson. Desperately, she wants another Secret Avenger sent to Wisconsin. She needs someone who is both a psychiatrist and a hypnotist. Dr. Druid, Dr. Voodoo, or Doc Samson would each do. However, Coulson explains that Druid and Samson cannot always be trusted and that he has never even met the mysterious Jericho Drumm. Furthermore, seven superheroes already work this case: three Great Lakes Champions (four if Doorman is alive somewhere), Captain Ultra, Mockingbird, Spider-Woman, and Stingray. At all times, the nation needs its superheroes spread out, not clustered. A huge cluster in very active Manhattan is okay. Coulson promises that SHIELD will send Senyaka someone, however. This person is more low-key, and he arrives this evening. Please do not disturb Coulson during that time. He has something that he watches on Tuesdays.

In nearby Iowa County, Craig Hollis (Mr. Immortal) and Bobbi Morse (Mockingbird) help recuperating Eddie Dyson with milking. The activity must occur everyday—even in the brutal dead of winter. But, Craig and Bobbi don't mind. Craig grew-up helping agrarian neighbors. Bobbi is a biologist and a former Savage Land resident. Country living—and its challenges—suit her. And, Mr. Immortal and Mockingbird are Avengers as tough, good-hearted, and beneficent as they come.

The three have just completed afternoon milking. Eddie moves the herd into the barnyard. Like a champion, Mr. Immortal pushes manure toward the moats. Around him, Mockingbird disinfects equipment and gathers buckets for cleaning.

"Are you doing alright, Eddie?" Craig shouts.

"Yeah, fine. You just worry about the cow crap," Dyson waves his bandaged hand. Beneath the wrapping, he recovers from burns. Beneath his clothes, he recovers from cracked ribs, severe bruises, and various abrasions. His nose is broken. It has been three days since the assault.

"Well, he's resilient," Bobbi comments.

"How do you figure Mr. Michaels does at the hospital?" Craig asks.

"I'm not sure. You and I have not been to Madison because we have been guarding Eddie here," Bobbi pauses to explain, "Constrictor might come back, or he might not. I have a hunch that he got the hell out of Dodgeville after doing the job, though. He doesn't need to stay around. The message got delivered."

"Don't continue investigating Hate-Monger or whoever," the pupil completes his mentor's thought.

"Exactly."

"Who do you figure attacked the house?" Hollis picks his mentor's brain.

Mockingbird deliberates, "There is an unlikely chance that Psycho-Man did. The old Fantastic Four foe has a connection to _a_ Hate-Monger. However, the culprit is more likely Mr. Fear. That is my guess. He is a thug more likely to work with Constrictor and to work _for_ whomever Constrictor works for."

"Mr. Fear crossed my mind. The looting thugs were wearing gasmasks," the former cop joins the heroes, "They would need those masks to protect from that crap that Fear uses."

"Well, hopefully, Mr. Michaels can tell us something soon," Mr. Immortal eyes the hole in the parlor roof, "Someone has done a lot damage in my home turf recently. The Great Lakes Champions and I need a target so that we can go whup some ass."

"Amen," Payback replies. Mockingbird is not opposed to some hard justice herself.

At the hospital, a John Warden arrives to see patient Lester Michaels. Guard Senyaka provides him access. Any SHIELD agent has heard of the enigmatic head of the ESP division. Warden makes few public appearances. He is almost always behind the scenes. But, he does great work. Coulson sent someone very good. And, propitiously, John Warden is someone whom any spying supervillains would unlikely notice, unlike green-haired Leonard Samson for example.

In Iola, Spider-Woman and Agent Veronica King have not noticed Mad-Dog and the Death-Throws spying on them. The locals have told them about plenty of strangers. Truckers go through the truck stop constantly. Businessmen do business in town constantly. People's relatives visited town to watch the Superbowl recently. The villains simply blend into the masses. The locals are tight-lipped about the defunct Kubekult, though. They do not want to discuss that unfortunate chapter.

Jessica Drew calls Phil Coulson in Milwaukee. She has nothing yet. Spider-Woman and Agent King will keep canvassing. But, if nothing appears soon, they both go elsewhere. From Milwaukee, Phil says that that plan is fine, and he hangs-up. In the next room, Coulson has five women keeping him company. He returns to them and offers liquor. Suicide bomber Hilda Altman was a Racine Ramjet, so SHIELD needs to visit with them. The tough girls are relaxed and cooperative. They are honest folk. It does not sound like Hilda would normally join Hate-Monger's followers and become a suicide bomber.

In central Madison, Warden emerges from the patient's room. Senyaka awaits anxiously in the hallway. Warden reports that Michaels will be just fine. The ESPer got into the old man's traumatized psyche. He retrieved recent bad memories; he calmed the old vet.

Mr. Michaels emerges from the room. With composure, he states, "It was Mr. Fear. There were these three punks who called their leader Mr. Fear."

"We know who that is," the female SHIELD agent assures.

"He's gonna know me," Mr. Michaels says with determination. Apparently, he feels much better—and a bit angry.

In east Madison, Mr. Fear is not giving a second thought to Mr. Michaels. Mr. Augustine Cross, head of Cross Technologies, has his full attention. Crossfire and Darren Cross are also present in Augustine's office. Chairman Augustine sits in a high-backed chair behind his expansive mahogany desk. Before the boss, Alan Fagan sits in a comfortable armchair. Beside Augustine, eight-foot Darren stands next to his son like Frankenstein's monster alongside his re-animator. Augustine did recently re-animate his dead father (see _Ant-Man #_ 4), in fact. Nigh the others, William Cross lounges upon an overstuffed leather sofa. He sips a brandy and texts his wife in Miami. Sometimes, even terrorist bad-asses like to be comfortable.

Augustine speaks, "Cross Technologies needs our Fox Valley warehouse cleaned."

Crossfire gives Augustine one eye, "Agreed. At present, SHIELD knows little to nothing about our involvement in the bombing. However, that circumstance will not be the case forever. We have been compromised since the moment that Lynn Michaels began snooping, and SHIELD will follow her investigative tracks properly at some point. We must remove all contraband from Winnebago County soon."

Alan Fagan grins, "That Winnebagoland attack was beautiful. I would love to help you Crosses to create further havoc."

"I'm sure that Mr. Fear would love to do that," Darren utters, "But how?"

"Daddy, he can be a decoy while we Crosses take care of family business, " Augustine addresses his big daddy.

Crossfire explains, "After the bombing, government agents and superpowered goody-goods are in Wisconsin. They are in Iola and Madison, for example. Certainly, they might re-visit Oshkosh where the attack occurred and where we have our warehouse. We need someone to draw them away from Oshkosh while we expurgate our facilities."

Alan complements William, "Mr. Fear can get the attention of every superhero and SHIELD agent in the state. I can do something big. It'll shock and awe."

Crossfire nods, "Good, I'll provide you the Death-Throws from up-north."

Augustine claps his hands gleefully, "Goody, Cross Technologies shall provide whatever tech you need."

"Good, you're all being generous. I won't have to attempt robbing CTE like I once did," Fagan jokes (see _Marvel Team-Up_ # 92).

"Yeah, I remember that," Crossfire rolls his good eye.


	5. Chapter 5: The Fire is So Delightful

**Chapter 5: The Fire is So Delightful**

"Can you believe this? We have had an entire three damn days to plan this operation: Wednesday, Thursday, Friday," Al shakes his head.

"Yeah, Happy Valentine's Day, 2015," Chuck stands outside Al's open cab window, "Fortunately, we Death-Throws enjoy improv. We're entertainer criminals."

"This is better than hide and seek with Spider-Woman up north, I suppose. A farmtown in February is not that entertaining," Alvin "Tenpin" Healy sips some stimulating coffee.

Charles "Ringleader" Last drags his Jakarta java too, "I too am glad for the chance to engage a target. Spider-Woman was outnumbered five to one. The Death-Throws and Mad-Dog should have been allowed to do something."

"Well, we at least get to take down another Avenger, and we get to ruin his Valentine's Day," bad Al says.

"He's coming," Chuck points to the glass doors. Walter and Diane Newell stroll through the Milwaukee airport toward the chilly outdoors. Milwaukee's Billy Mitchell International is not such a romantic place, but they kiss anyway just before exiting. It is Valentine's Day. Stingray has planned a romantic day away from his work in the Fox Valley to the north.

"Are you sure those two idiots are taking a cab?" Tenpin prepares to execute a nefarious plan.

"Walter Newell returned the rental car that he drove south to meet his wife's plane," Ringleader gulps steaming coffee, "The Newells will need a cab. They'll fall into this trap."

Simultaneously, the Death-Throws crumple their cups and toss the trash with inexplicable accuracy into receptacles. Obliviously, Walter has only eyes for Diane this day, and the superhero does not notice the duo's unusual ability. He does not notice Ringleader at all until the brigand—incognito—steps into his path. "May I offer you a taxi?" the Death-Throw casts his hand toward the vehicle

"That would be lovely," Diane pecks her husband again, "I am so glad that I came out from Connecticut. We have never been to Milwaukee. Is there much to see?"

"You won't be seeing much of it, lady," Tenpin thinks to himself. Ringleader places Diane's luggage in the trunk. The suitcase does not feel like it contains the heavy supersuit of Stingray.

The taxi takes off for Beer Town's downtown. Ringleader knows that Throwdown and Knickknack should soon follow. The Death-Throws did not really get to plan this kidnapping. On Wednesday, Crossfire called them in Iola. He said that Mad-Dog had to get to Madison immediately. He dispatched the Death-Throws to Milwaukee. In Milwaukee, Mr. Fear greeted them. He said that Crossfire wanted them to work with him now. They would make big money executing big plans.

"What are the big plans for this evening?" Diane Newell cuddles her husband.

"P.J. James," Walter cutely lovetaps her.

"Oh! I'm so excited!" Diane sounds excited, "He was a big name years back. Remember, you and I would dance to his pop in college."

"Well, good old P.J. has not changed much since then," Walter smiles and gazes, "He still perms his hair, although he dyes it these days. He still plays keytar. He still sings the same songs that he did with Dazzler. It should be a good evening."

"Didn't Dazzler and Rogue save his bacon one time against a bunch of thugs?" the middle-aged woman recalls the obscure past (see _Marvel Fanfare_ #38).

"Yep, James did encounter a bunch of thugs, and you are about to too," Tenpin thinks to himself. The couple have not noticed the detour that their driver takes. Not knowing Milwaukee, they might not have noticed anyway. The car goes no longer north. It has diverted east to the nearly abandoned neighborhoods between the airport and the main city. In 2015, no one works here anymore. Few people live here anymore. And certainly, there is little vehicle or pedestrian traffic on a frigid Saturday morn. Cab windows drop and let the air in. It hits the warm-blooded passengers like a cold shower.

The Avenger notices. Instantly, he is on alert. His angry face is about to ask the driver what gives. A Cadillac whizzes past the taxi. Two darts fly from its open backwindow. With impeccable accuracy, one stings Stingray in his neck. The tranquilizer goes directly to his brain, and he drops over. The other dart doses Diane. Likewise, she falls unconscious. The Death-Throws quickly drag the captives to the Caddy's trunk. The cab is already on the airport's security footage. Law enforcement will look for it later. The Caddy is just another car on the road. It can disappear.

Before departing, Al pulls open Walter's shirt. "Wouldn't you prefer to pull open his wife's shirt? It is Valentine's Day," Knickknack guffaws juvenilely beside him.

"Stingray is not wearing his armor beneath his civvies. He'll be helpless later," Tenpin explains himself.

"I thought about the armor before throwing the darts," Knickknack explains his strategy, "That's why I hit him in the neck."

"Yeah, nice toss. Let's get the hell out of here," Throwdown states from the driver's seat. Al plops beside her. Creepy Nick knows to return to the back. Then, the three get the hell out of there. Ringleader and Mr. Fear will be pleased.

"Where is Mr. Fear?" Captain Ultra asks on Thursday, February 12th, Lincoln's Birthday. In two days, Stingray and his wife will be kidnapped by the Death-Throws. Ultra has his mask pulled back, and he enjoys a fine cup of Jakarta java.

"I do not know Fear's location. I have no idea. But, we have all of the time in the world to find him," Phil Coulson states, "Cross Technologies is our main target right now." The Cheese sits at the head of a long, walnut dining room table.

"Why? What do we know?" Walter Newell examines the continental breakfast spread before his companions and him. In the room's corner, his Stingray suit sits draped over a stuffed armchair. It can be hard to eat with it on. He does not always wear it.

"We know that John Warden does good work," Coulson replies, "SHIELD dispatched him to the university hospital to help Mr. Michaels. We needed to know who attacked him. While there, Agent Senyaka thought to have psychic Warden attempt to access comatose Lynn Michaels's brain. The mindprobe worked. We discovered whom she had been investigating when she contacted the Great Lakes Champions."

"It was Cross Technologies," Flatman smacks the tabletop, "They are behind the bombing on 'Bago that killed Doorman and mangled many, many people, including brave Lynn. I wish that Stingray and I could at least find the flashdrive that Michaels tried providing Mr. Immortal."

"Our intelligence is a little short for lacking the flashdrive, correct?" Mr. Immortal queries. Like Ultra, Immortal also has his mask pulled back. As is his nature, he wants to relax a bit before getting deadly serious on a mission. Within, he holds the same rage about the terror attack that Flatman wears without. Besides those parties mentioned, Spider-Woman and SHIELD pilot Constance Seagrum are also present. They also like justice.

"Correct, Mr. Immortal, Lynn Michaels did not have the flashdrive's contents memorized," Coulson affirms.

"It's okay. We can handle any surprises," Flatman leans in, "We know that Cross Technologies keeps some highly dangerous material at their Fox Valley facility. Lady Punisher's records would have offered specifics. However, our team is capable."

Coulson agrees, "In theory, Flatman and Stingray have the engineering expertise to remove any dangerous devices safely. In theory, Spider-Woman and Captain Ultra have the muscle to handle any monsters that CTE might have made—or hired as security."

"Are we raiding the facility?" Mr. Immortal's visage lights up.

"Let's take the Cross family's stuff," the commander states, "The Crosses must know that SHIELD will discover their machinations eventually despite their providing wild geese such as Hate-Monger and his groupies. The heat is on. Therefore, the Crosses will clean out that facility soon."

"But, they do not know that we already know about them," Spider-Woman mentions.

"Therefore, they might be still planning instead of acting at this stage," Coulson completes her thought.

"When do we strike first?" Stingray asks. He likes the idea of anticipating an enemy.

"This afternoon," the big cheese answers, "Mr. Immortal, Flatman, Spider-Woman, Stingray, Captain Ultra, and I will go to the Fox Valley at noon. Pilot Seagrum will fly us. There, SHIELD technicians will meet us with large transport vehicles. The Fox Valley has many defense contracts. Therefore, no residents will notice large military transports moving through the Fox Cities. Everyone keep an eye out for bad guys while we're stealing their shit."

"What if we get in over our heads? For example, you mentioned that the stored contraband is an unknown," Stingray discusses getting in deep.

"SHIELD has plenty of scientists in rolodex," Coulson pours himself some juice, "I nearly called Cross Tech's old nemesis Ant-Man, for instance. But, his ant assistants is not too useful in winter."

Everyone chuckles. Obviously, Ant-Man can do other things. "What if we get in over our heads fightwise? Where are Big Bertha and other forces?" Captain Ultra asks.

Coulson completes the picture, "Big Bertha needs to stay with Payback and the Michaels family in Madison. Lynn is still a target. Some creep might still try to silence her. For example, hitman Constrictor is still out there. I have Mockingbird and Agent King tracking him. Beyond that, many Avengers can get to the Upper Midwest quickly even from the East Coast. If pandemonium breaks loose, we are still not screwed."

"Alright, we are set," Spider-Woman casually samples some sweet pastry, "This is good. What is this?"

"It's called kringle. It is kind of a Wisconsin specialty," Mr. Immortal shares.

The allies enjoy their breakfast in this large, luxurious SHIELD safehouse. SHIELD seized the place from the Serpent Society after that organization fell. Sidewinder and the gang used to vacation here in bucolic Port Washington when not causing trouble. Sidewinder was a Fond du Lac boy originally, after all.

The mansion has a gorgeous view of Lake Michigan scintillating in the winter sun. Walter Newell looks out mesmerized. The group could have met at GLC headquarters in Milwaukee. But, this is certainly nice too. The gorgeous view reminds Walter of his wife. Stingray pulls Coulson aside. If possible, the hero would like time with Diane this Valentine's Day after the Fox Valley mission. The commander does not anticipate any troubles.


	6. Chapter 6: Chamber of Chills

**Chapter 6: Chamber of Chills**

At Thursday noon, SHIELD agents and Secret Avengers travel to the Fox Valley. Without incident, they commandeer potential weapons of mass destruction. Afterward, they stay in Winnebago County awaiting Cross forces. Jessica Drew jokes that she is spending too much time in small cities lately. San Francisco or New York City will look pretty good after this assignment.

On Friday, the group plays cards and gets fish fry. Out of boredom, a few visit the public museum in secret identity. Captain Ultra can fly them back quickly to Cross Technologies if need be. At the museum, the disguised visitors encounter a friendly local. He shows the touring group Quasar's old house. Wendell Vaughn is from here. On Saturday morning, Stingray flies stealthily to Appleton to rent a car. Then, he drives seventy-five miles south into an ambush.

That Saturday evening, Mr. Fear is completely unaware that SHIELD lies in ambush seventy-five miles to Milwaukee's north. Mr. Fear laughs to himself, for the Death-Throws and he lie in ambush for SHIELD's people. When they arrive tonight, they will not know what hit them.

"All goes perfectly. Prepare to move," Mr. Fear in Milwaukee tells Crossfire in Madison via perfectly secure video conference.

"We are ready to move," Crossfire reports, "We have our rigs ready to roll. CTE workers will drive the transport vehicles to Winnebago County. There, Mad-Dog and Piledriver will provide security. Cousin Darren shall oversee everything."

"Darren Cross is going on a covert mission?" Mr. Fear wonders, "Are you going to shrink him with Pym particles first?" Mutate Cross is a damn ogre.

"Hmph! Well, I grant you that his body issues have altered his appearance over the years. However, he remains a kind of strong leader who likes taking control of matters," William Cross sort of defends his family member. Darren Cross is kind of a freak at this point, but he has his mind.

"It's all right. I like taking control too," Fear quips, "For example, I kidnapped Stingray for you." Mr. Fear shakes an empty red and white costume before the webcam.

"Excellent, I am glad that my intelligence gathering bore fruit. You would be amazed how easily a person can find car rentals, flight plans, and hotel reservations on-line these days. One needn't even be an expert hacker to catch an aquaman with the 'net," Crossfire chuckles at his own joke.

Mr. Fear forces an accompanying chuckle, "Yeah, your fishing expedition landed us a Stingray—and his wife."

Crossfire slaps his knee before sobering slightly. Then, he reviews upcoming events, "Soon, let SHIELD and friends know about your hostages and hostile intentions. They will come running to Milwaukee. When they do, we will take-off from Madison."

Mr. Fears shakes his head, "I can't believe that I have to attend a P.J. James concert. Frightful."

William Cross warns, "The Crosses must not be implicated in the Milwaukee chaos. You must appear to have acted alone. SHIELD does not know about us Crosses." Both masterminds sign-off.

"When do you think the Crosses make their move?" Mr. Immortal asks Agent Coulson.

"Currently, their boy Alan Fagan just sent me an e-mail with a file attachment," Coulson glowers at his laptop, "How the hell did Mr. Fear get my e-mail?"

"Crossfire might have found it and provided it," Jessica Drew has good espionage instincts.

Despite a SHIELD firewall, the attachment opens itself. It is a video, and it starts playing. In the foreground, Mr. Fear stands in creepy cape, dark costume, and skull mask. Behind him, the Death-Throws—Ringleader, Knickknack, Tenpin, Throwdown—stand with arms cockily folded. Mr. Fear speaks, "Greetings, Phil and his gang. I am Mr. Fear. And, I am about to do a bunch of terrorist stuff to ruin everyone's Valentine's Day. You might recall the chaos that I caused last Saturday at the old jamboree fisheree. That was fun. Hail Hate-Monger!"

"Mr. Fear was in Mineral Point last Saturday, not Winnebagoland. We should keep that in-mind," detective Drew notes.

"Crossfire led operations here. That is my guess," Coulson contributes.

Tenpin walks toward the camera. The lens pans to the right. Walter and Diane Newell come into view. Bound and gagged, they have obviously been roughed-up a bit. Mr. Fear and Knickknack come into the shot. The sadistic spook continues, "First, I am going to have Knickknack here kill an Avenger and his wife on-camera. Then, I'm going to post the clip on the internet. How many times do you think the news will replay that shit? And, whatever will it do to the nation's holiday spirit?"

Knickknack produces an impressive dagger, "I think that I'll cut out someone's heart for Valentine's Day." The curved steel slices a hole through Diane's thick cardigan. Beside her, Walter's eyes look very, very angry. Abruptly, the thug re-sheaths the knife.

The camera pans left. Video viewers see an empty stage. Mr. Fear elucidates, "Outdated act P.J. James plays syrupy schlock from that stage tonight. The audience will be full of middle-aged lovers—probably people's dads and moms—dancing and singing and having a good time. Then, I'm going to gas them with fear gas while the Death-Throws here pick them off one-by-one. The panic and chaos should be a nice mix of a human stampede and a mass shooting."

"That concert is well-advertised in the Milwaukee area," Mr. Immortal explicates, "It occurs at the Lazer Club on 4th Street across from the Bradley Center."

Mr. Fear concludes, "Finally, no terrorist attack is complete without a big bomb. My massive explosive is hidden inside a blimp flying over downtown tonight. Maybe, good guys will spot the blimp easily. Maybe, they won't. At some point, the blimp will explode. The explosion should have a concussive force strong enough to collapse a few buildings. Maybe, you good guys will prevent the destruction. Maybe, you won't. An Avenger or two will have to come here and find out."

"When the hell is that concert?" Flatman blurts.

The evil instigator answers the question, "By the time you receive this video, Coulson, your team will have fifty-five minutes to stop me. I invaded your inbox at 7 p.m. Your yokels and you watched this video for five minutes. The concert starts at eight o'clock. Come stop me. Unless you _fear_ that you can't. Hail Hate-Monger!"

"He can stop with the 'Hail Hate-Monger' crap. We know already that is a red herring," Spider-Woman is unimpressed.

Flatman pulls at his hair, "We Great Lake Champions cannot have Milwaukee destroyed. We need to get down there!"

"I can fly you pronto," Captain Ultra readies for action.

"I'm going with. Milwaukee is my home too," Mr. Immortal would intrepidly enter this trap.

"Jessica, you need to stay here," the commander orders the remaining superhero, "I need one super on-site at this warehouse. The rest of you, go. And, godspeed. I will send help if any is in the area."

Outside the warehouse, Flatman forms a tarp on the ground. Mr. Immortal gets into it. Captain Ultra gathers the tarp and rockets southward. "I could follow. Those three might need the air cavalry for that blimpbomb," Constance Seagrum speaks up.

"I am extremely tempted. We have an obviously serious situation in Milwaukee," Phil admits, "However, we all know that Mr. Fear is merely the Cross family's pawn. Granted, Fagan is dangerous. But, we know that he is bullshitting about being our main enemy, and he is going to much trouble to convince us otherwise and to get our attention."

Right on cue, Tia Senyaka contacts Coulson from Madison. Her coded text states that crooked Cross Technologies crews are on the move. They head toward the warehouse to reclaim their pernicious possessions. Enhanced beings Piledriver, Mad-Dog, and Darren Cross travel in two big rigs with about fourteen armed men.

"Well, they at least do not know that we are here," Jessica Drew offers the short-staffed SHIELD crew.

"You hope. Let's set-up an ambush," Cmdr Coulson prepares his two troops, Spider-Woman and Cap. Seagrum.


	7. Chapter 7: Midnight Sun Pt 1

**Chapter 7: Midnight Sun, Part One**

P.J. James takes the stage, and the audience cheers. The troubadour waves to a crescent of tables around an open dance floor. In a disco ball's shimmer, Valentine's Day couples sip champagne and nibble hors d'oeuvres, mayhap before nibbling on each other. Anxiety eats at P.J. Supervillains are backstage and in the audience, and most Lazer Club employees do not even know that killers are amongst them. Mr. Fear has said to act normal and perform. Otherwise, "go out and break a leg" would actually mean a broken leg. James starts with a cover of "You Really Got Me". Bassist Makoto Suzuki joins in.

A crisis within the club, help arrives outside. Captain Ultra alights with two Great Lakes Champions upon 4th Street. Astonished Milwaukeean drivers even stop traffic for the spectacle. Flatman unwraps from his buddy, and Mr. Immortal stands tall. Tilting his chin, Captain Ultra seems to be scanning the night sky carefully.

Unexpectedly, Ultra announces, "You two go inside. I'll meet you in a bit. Save me some trouble-makers."

"Are you crazy?" Flatman asks the motley might, "Mr. Immortal and I would be two against five at least."

Mr. Immortal knows the score, "Our crimefighting comrade has telescopic vision. He scans for that bomb-carrying blimp."

"Yep. And, I just found it too. Good luck, guys," Captain Ultra rockets to the rescue.

"All is well, Val," Champion Craig tells his fellow, "Mr. Fear doesn't have me worried. As Hank Pym once, said, 'When the going gets tough. . . . ." The aspiring avenger punches his fist mightily into his palm.

"Wasn't that just an actor who looks a lot like Pym?" Flatman wonders, "He was in those two Doc Savage movies with Jessica Rabbit."

Mr. Immortal gallops up the club's front stairs. He charges into the techno cacophony and awaiting fray. An Immortal does not fear death. Practicing more caution, Flatman decides to sneak in a sidewindow on the building's second story. The fabulous Flatman merely stretches the fifteen feet to the sill; then, he slithers through the millimeter opening at the locked window's bottom. Flatman figures that there should be a catwalk above the club's stage. Perhaps, he will spot some bad guys from the catwalk.

Mr. Immortal enters the concert area. He tries shouting above the decibels. He tries pulling patrons from their tables while frantically pointing to the exit. Security sees the costumed crazy and approaches him. The rescuer points to his lips and enunciates "e-vac-u-ate" in the din. The rent-a-cops merely raise their eyebrows and grab his arms. Mr. Immortal jerks free and runs to the seemingly puzzled hostess.

"Emergency! We need everyone out!" the savior screams in her ear.

"Hly fng sh, why?" she bluntly queries. The music partially drowns her words. The pretty brunette raises a re-assuring hand to the bouncers. They stop a sec.

The Champion indicates his costume, "Just do it! I'm an Avenger!"

"Sure, honey, I recognize you," incognito Throwdown grabs his neck and yells in his ear, "Go get 'em!"

The assassin pecks his cheek. Grinning widely, she shoos the security. She had better get the doors. Kicking off her high heels, the homicidal hostess jigs to the entrance and exit as thumping dance music plays. At the doors, Throwdown weaves cable tightly through the handles and padlocks the loops together. She smiles at her reflection in the glass. The coming human stampede should be deadly—and awesome.

At the crowd's back, a lone man pounds his table and dances in his chair. Seemingly, he finds P.J. James, like, totally awesome. The waitress thinks him a real card, and she admires him for going joyfully stag this lovers' evening. However, she can understand his lone status; his face is a bit—well, deformed. As Throwdown handles doors, Fagan finishes his brandy old-fashioned. He relishes it. They do not have those drinks elsewhere in the United States, and they certainly don't have those in prison. From his purple tux, the madman pulls a remote control. Beneath the table, he has his usual attire. Mr. Fear gets ready.

Knickknack watches everything from the security room upstairs. It is a six-by-thirteen room, and he shares these tight quarters with the kidnapped Newells. They are trussed-up to his left, and the room's door stands to his right. Security cameras show Knickknack most of the building. A camcorder sits upon the floor. Someone will film the Death-Throws executing Stingray and his wife later. The killers plan to throw various deadly crap at the captives. Knickknack plans to throw a hatchet so that he can joke that he is a hatchet man. He is an entertainer criminal. The goon awaits his orders from either Mr. Fear or Ringleader.

Ringleader and Tenpin stand beneath the catwalk backstage. They are on Knickknack's security monitor. Flatman above the two is not. The two Throws monitor James's crew while giving them evil eyes. No one is going to make a move. Then, Flatman makes his. He works his malleable feet into the catwalk grating. Then, he drops like a yo-yo, circles Ringmaster, yanks him upward like a bungee, and crashes the head villain's cranium hard into the steel walk. Ringmaster goes completely limp in Flatman's coiled form. Like a playhouse sandbag, Flatman drops the dead weight onto incognizant Tenpin, pinning him. Tenpin looks up at Flatman's face inches above his and the hero's boots fourteen feet above that. The rubber man elongates his arm and picks-up a bowling pin knocked from Tenpin's backpack.

"Are these clubs wood?" Flatman examines the club. Death-Throw eyes widen. Tenpin will not be spared. The Champion conks him on the head. Just like that, five threats have become three.

One threat signals Mr. Fear that the front doors are closed. Throwdown tosses him the padlock key. Sneering, Alan Fagan presses the remote in his hand. Around the dance floor, smoke machines billow forth great fog banks. They are full of noxious fear gas. Between the banks, Mr. Immortal bolts to the stage. Fagan ducks beneath his table's cloth, for he wants his grand Fear costume for this grand moment. Throwdown ducks toward the waitstaff station. She wants some steak knives and drinking glasses to juggle—and to throw. Neither scoundrel attempts intercepting Milwaukee's Champion. Ringmaster and Tenpin are backstage. They'll get Immortal.

Oblivious Ringleader and Tenpin lie unconscious behind the curtain before which Mr. Immortal stands. P.J. James and the band halt their power. Eighties rocker James had been thinking "I need a hero", and here one stands garbed like a Solid Gold dancer. Mr. Immortal takes the mic.

"There's something in the fog!" the undying quotes an '80s horror movie.

Abruptly, screams erupt all around him. The fear gas has hit the crowd, and the crowd is in a frenzied panic. The terrified shriek and weep. The unnerved collapse and faint. The chilled shudder. The aghast swill alcohol. The paranoid attack their neighbors. The spooked stampede over other people. Gussied gents eliminate upon themselves. Hysterical ladies claw their own clothing and persons.

Smirking, Alan Fagan places his skull mask over his face. He lobs a ventilator to Throwdown. She catches and dons it all while juggling knives and glasses. Feeling divine, Fear points a finger of fate at the stage. A steak knife pegs Mr. Immortal's shoulder. He screams. Throwdown smiles. Master Fear nods his approval to her.

Backstage, Flatman dangles above the two unconscious Death-Throws. He stretches forward to peep through the curtain separating backstage and the club. Amidst chaos, Mr. Immortal shields P.J. James from Throwdown's attack. She pegs Immortal unmercifully with shattering glass and steel blades. Craig is bleeding pretty good. But, teeth gritted, the hero protects the high-value target. Past the stage, people panic riotously. Beyond them, Mr. Fear stands cockily upon a table and waves his fear gun. Like a chanticleer, Fear controls the spooked crowd. He fires into the air, and the crowd stampedes toward the building's main entrance and exit. No one thinks of emergency exits. Flatman gasps. Bodies pile-up at a locked passage. They crush together tighter and tighter. Very soon, someone is going to get hurt—or die.

Unexpectedly, someone runs across the catwalk above Flatman. In fact, he feels boots run over his legs imbedded in the grating. Ultra? No, the superman would likely fly to the rescue, not run. Flatman wishes that Captain Ultra were here. The two Great Lakes Champions are not immune to clouds of fear gas. Captain Ultra's ultra-breath might clear the air quickly. Oh well. Flatman formulates a plan. This is his town.

Upstairs, Knickknack does not even monitor the ground floor's cameras. He slowly ogles Diane Newell.

"Don't touch my wife," husband Walter admonishes.

Knickknack gives her a squeeze, "Why? What are you going to do about it?"

"I would avenge her, " Stingray states, "However, you should be informed that lovely Diane is Tiger Shark's sister. So, what do you think that he would do to you if any harm came to her? He would make you into a few knick-knacks, boy."

"Ooooooh nooooo," the cad acts scared sarcastically. He probably is disquieted, though. Anyone wise is terrified of Tiger Shark. The brigand cannot act intimidated, however. So, he grabs a scissors and stabs it deep into Walter's thigh. The hostage hollers. His wife shivers. Knickknack withdraws the four-inch sticker from the bleeding leg. He clicks the cutting blades before Diane's anxious eyes. She prepares to be brave.

Then, someone pounds on the door. "Open the door, scumbag!" a male voice commands.

Who the hell? "Tiger Shark, that ain't you, is it?" nervous Knickknack approaches the door. Walter Newell cannot believe that this dumbass does not check camera A, the one just outside of the security room.

"Are you the Nick Grossman who stands about 5' 3?" the voice asks.

"Yeah," Grossman answers.

A .44 caliber bullet blasts through wood and blockhead. Knickknack's brains blow out, and the limp lowlife flops across the Newells' laps. Their savior kicks the door open. He tosses the dead Death-Throw aside. He frees the Newells.

Then, he takes his leave, "I have more war to wage. You folks take care." The shock troop charges from the room.

Diane considers Knickknack's carcass, "Well, that was payback."

"No, that wasn't Eddie Dyson," her husband comments.

Downstairs, Flatman executes a perfect plan. He stands on the stage. First, he shines a stagelight into Throwdown's eyes. She is startled and blinded. His arm stretches. From fifteen feet away, he yanks down her ventilator. Wide-eyed, she drops everything and holds her breath. Next, he orders P.J. James and his bandmates to run. Next, Flatman stretches between the amps on either side of the stage. Mr. Immortal knows what his teammate is doing. Immediately, he runs toward the slingshot. The slingshot tosses Mr. Immortal toward Mr. Fear posturing upon his summit. The Avenger knocks the villain into an area adjacent the Lazer Club's main one. From the stage, Flatman noticed that the area contained no fear gas. Finally, Flatman grabs the ceiling's girders above Throwdown. Ventilator replaced, she prepares for a fight. To her surprise, he swings past her instead of engaging.

Instead, Flatman's flat form drops between the stampede's tight bodies. People kick and buffet him without harming him. The pliable protector stretches between the mob and the frontdoor's glass. He does not know how long he can keep it up against the crush of humanity. The crowd frantically pounds his plastic body, and their fists break the glass behind him. However, the Great Lakes Champion will not let panic-stricken people pour into 4th Street's busy traffic.


	8. Chapter 8: Midnight Sun Pt 2

**Chapter 8: Midnight Sun, Part Two**

Death-Throw Throwdown is out of stilettos and tumblers. In the fear gas fog, she searches for other weapons around the ballroom. Perhaps, she should fetch some butcher knives and dinner plates from the kitchen. Perhaps, she should run away and live to fight another day. Mr. Fear has planned an escape route. Then, a leader directs her.

"Throwdown, catch!" someone yells from the fog. Through the mist, Ringleader's razor-rings cut. The wicked juggler catches all three without slicing off a single finger. Gleefully, she juggles them with a huge smile behind her ventilator. Her leader and lover Ringleader walks toward her through the haze. Great. Together, they can kill Mr. Immortal. They will escape together while he is dead and recovering. Flatman is, of course, occupied.

Wait. That isn't Ringleader approaching. Killer clown Throwdown does not even have time to frown. The Colt cracks twice. The first bullet blows Throwdown's pretty wrist in half. The next removes her hand entirely. The airborne razor-rings drop from their arc. One becomes a macabre metal halo jutting from Throwdown's skull. She moans; she falls.

"Juggle now, motherfucker," a dark figure taunts. He steps over her. His face looks at her from behind his gasmask. A skull looks at her from his chest. The light leaves her eyes, and the grim reaper takes her. On a mission, the Punisher marches toward Misters Fear and Immortal.

A moment earlier, Misters Immortal and Fear rise from the carpet to face each other. Bleeding and sore, Immortal grimaces in determination. Hissing and pissed, Fear swipes up his sidearm from the floor. The brawlers are in a VIP section of the club, where there is no fear gas. All the same, Sen. Jeff Knudsen and his wife cower in a booth with their unfinished lobster dinner. Eerie candlelight dances across everyone's face. Moonlight shines through a bay window and silhouettes Fear in his cowl.

"Go!" Mr. Fear waves his weapon. He points the senator and his wife toward the fear-inducing fog. The Knudsens would rather run into that than face this gun-toting madman. Mr. Immortal would prefer that they leave too so that he can have Fear to himself. Senator and wife skitter and scam.

A drinktray hacks Mr. Fear's wrist hard, and he drops the firearm. The tray hacks his throat hard, and he drops to his knees. Mr. Immortal kicks the gun away.

The champion speaks, "Any aspiring superhero should study self-defense. For example, he should know to disarm an opponent first. Then, hit a weak spot."

"You're a wannabe bad-ass, Immortal. I'm a real terror," Fear wheezes and rises.

The quasi-shield slaps the menace across the face. The journeyman Avenger continues, "I have had some great fighting instructors. My hero Cap is one of them."

For punctuation, the Avenger flings the aluminum disk at the punk's head. Fagan ducks, and the weapon misses badly. Alan Fagan laughs. With a left hand, Craig Hollis punches him in the nose. With a right, he throws hot candle wax into his eyes. Mr. Fear screams startled.

Mr. Immortal continues, "Did I scare you? Hawkeye taught me to use trickery." Mr. Fear tears off the mask now blinding him. He is unburnt and unharmed. A potted plant does immediately smash him alongside the head, however. He groans on all fours, and his facial scars bleed onto the carpet.

Mr. Immortal continues, "At Camp Hammond, She-Hulk taught me how to smash stuff." He smirks self-satisfied.

Someone sucker-punches the Avenger from behind, "Did anyone ever teach you to shut up and end your enemy?" A Colt cocks.

Like a thunderbolt, Mr. Immortal throws an elbow into the attacker. The magnum's aim is off, and it discharges without killing Fagan. Mr. Fear rises wobbly from the floor and holds his head. His blurry vision discerns the new arrival, and he gasps. Cowardly Fear wraps himself in his cape and leaps through the baywindow. Like the opera's Phantom, his twisted face flees into the night. Milwaukee police and fire are only now responding, and they see his flapping cape run under the streetlights toward a dark abandoned lot. Cops sprint after him.

Flatman's head pokes between the sealed doors. He alerts the arrivals, "Officers! Officers! We need you in here right away! There's a riot! We also need fire in here right away! There's poison gas."

"There's poison gas?" the lead officer asks concerned.

Punisher has Mr. Immortal in a full nelson. He speaks into immobilized Immortal's ear, "Listen, I'm going after Mr. Fear to kill him. You Great Lakes geeks help save lives here."

The vigilante releases. The hero whips around snarling. Punisher runs back into the smoke. Mr. Immortal knows what must be done. He must save Mr. Fear from death—oddly enough. Suddenly, from the heavens, Captain Ultra lands before a surprised Mr. Immortal. The superman's attire appears charred and tattered as though in a great explosion.

"Never fear, Captain Ultra is here," the tacky hero announces.

"Great. Do something here," Mr. Immortal hops out the shattered window, "I need to save a super-baddy's life." The noble knight dashes off to save his enemy.

Captain Ultra hops out the shattered window too. "I'm here to save the day," the tacky hero announces to emergency personnel.

First, Captain Ultra strides to the frontdoors and rips them entirely off. No citizen will cut on jagged glass now. He tells exhausted Flatman to relax and to let the mob through. First responders catch the agitated citizens and assist them. Next, the captain holds his breath and flies through the fog. Certainly, the fellow does not want to breathe any of it. He has a phobia or two. In a jiffy, he delivers the Newells to an ambulance outside.

"My incredible x-ray and telescopic visions scanned this place when flying in just now," Ultra explains, "You two appear to have been roughed-up during your kidnapping. I thought that I would come rescue you."

The Newells get no time to thank "their hero". In a jiffy, Captain Ultra returns to the fog-filled ballroom, and he flies upward through the ceiling. He crashes through the roof—forming a huge hole. Ultra gulps a lot of air. He dives back inside. Ultra-breath blasts the poisonous vapors into the sky where they dissipate.

"Good job, hero," Flatman's utters weakly. The elastic man lies draped all over the place.

Captain Ultra spots his pooped ally. He walks over concerned, "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, just need to get some air in me," the flat man responds, "But, Mr. Immortal might still need help."

Many parties pursue Mr. Fear through Milwaukee's downtown. Policeman chase him on-foot. They have encountered his abandoned cape. A police copter seeks him from the air. The pilot spots him heading toward the Milwaukee River. Mr. Immortal sprints after the villain. Alan Fagan sweats and hyperventilates in the freezing air. The thug thinks that he might have to carjack a car soon. Granted, he has no weapon.

Punisher's van follows the police as they follow Mr. Fear. A scanner reports the chase. The vigilante has a weapon ready. A sniper rifle ought to drop Fagan once the police bring him to a halt.

Shivering Fear slips into an alley. It is a dead-end. He wipes away frothy spit and listens to the law fast approaching. Perhaps, he can scurry into a dumpster. He opens one. Captain Ultra lands behind him. Mr. Fear turns to look.

"Did I spook you, you rat?" the catcher asks. The wheezing rodent gives the eagle the last act of defiance.

"Do you like intimidating people? Do you like scaring them, Fagan?" puffed chest walks toward huffing and puffing man, "I think that you do. You floated a high explosive over this city. You terrorized a public celebration. You kidnapped and brutalized the Newells."

Trying to chortle, the churl coughs instead. His right hand clutches his heart, and his left rubs his cold arm. He shuffles his suddenly cold feet. He cannot speak. He tries to boastfully declare "I am Fear himself". But, he can only nod his head and sneer. Yes, he loves to scare people.

"Well, sometimes, so do I," a red glove grabs a purple shirt front.

The Captain rockets skyward. Mr. Immortal witnesses the take-off just before reaching the alley himself. Punisher watches the scene through nightvision binoculars. Annoyed, he drives away. He deliberates. Mr. Fear had partners when he hit the Michaels farm. Constrictor and three reported flunkies are still out there. And, their employer—whoever that is—is still out there too. Punisher will get them if he cannot get Mr. Fear.

The police copter sees Captain Ultra and Mr. Fear buzz past in a motley blur. Up in the sky, the two go higher and higher. Abruptly, they hit colder and colder temperatures. They enter thinner and thinner air. Captain Ultra can survive up here. His tough guy passenger might not. Fagan shivers in his freezing. His eyes roll back into his ugly face. Swooning, Mr. Fear fears that he might die. Things go black.

"You are more hardcore than I thought," Mr. Immortal greets returning Captain Ultra.

Captain Ultra lands with a frost-covered Fear out cold, "Eh, I was almost a villain when first starting out. I even auditioned for the Frightful Four [see _Fantastic Four_ #177]."

"Well, your recent actions certainly frightened me—and no doubt him. He looks petrified," Mr. Immortal indicates frozen Fear.

"Lester Michaels looked petrified at the Madison hospital too," Captain Ultra shrugs, "Say, speaking of hospitals, may I transport you to one? You're bleeding pretty badly."

At the hospital, Mr. Immortal and Walter Newell get sutured. Diane Newell has already been looked over. She visits the boys who lie on abreast gurneys.

She keeps things light, "For once, I would like to go out in public without being kidnapped: Lady Dorma [see _Sub-Mariner_ #27 ], Lady Llyra and Tiger Shark [see _Sub-Mariner_ #45 ], just Tiger Shark [see _Marvel Comics Presents_ #54], Dr. Dorcas [see _Namor the Sub-Mariner_ #42 ], this Valentine's Day weekend. Some dork-ass is always kidnapping me!" The patients crack smiles.

Flatman enters between the crack in the trauma bay curtain. "The late news reports that there was a big battle north of here tonight," he states, "Cross Technologies made their move on their Fox Cities warehouse while SHIELD was without Captain Ultra, Stingray, and two Great Lakes Champions."

"Phil Coulson was virtually alone against CTE's raiders," Dr. Newell notes.

Mr. Immortal purses his lips, "So, Mr. Fear and the Death-Throws provided but a diversion. This impressive Milwaukee battle was not tonight's main event. Oh boy."


	9. Chapter 9: Snowball's Chance Pt 1

**Chapter 9: Snowball's Chance, Part One**

"We have an incoming threat," Constance Seagrum radios Phil Coulson.

The SHIELD cavalry provides air support as two Cross semis fast approach. Captain Ultra, Mr. Immortal, and Flatman are likely arriving in Milwaukee right about now. The time is 20:00 hours. During winter, 8 p.m. provides some darkness to obscure her flying car. Otherwise, the pilot relies on SHIELD'S advanced stealth technology for her remaining safety. If Cross technologies do spot her, the semis make no indication. No skycycle is dispatched, for example. Constance considers targeting missiles. However, the hostile vehicles move down a Main Street lined with businesses serving Valentine's crowds. An attack would have lousy-big collateral damage.

Cap. Seagrum reports her thermal cam's findings instead, "Phil, Agent Senyaka's report is accurate. I see two vehicles approaching your position. The lead rig contains a driver and someone shotgun, and its trailer holds six people with one running skycycle. The second rig contains a driver and a possible super riding shotgun. His heat pattern is unusual and so is his height. He is about eight-foot. The trailer holds seven people and one running skycycle. All seventeen bad guys arrive in four minutes."

"Okay, roger that," the head agent responds, "Jessica, get ready to defend the Alamo."

"Okay, Spider-Woman is climbing into position," the super-agent responds. Spider-Woman climbs swiftly into the building's girders.

Coulson kills the lights. The warehouse must look unoccupied, and Agent Coulson must have the element of surprise. The former ranger wears his battle fatigues and holds his rifle upon a staircase overlooking the warehouse's vehicle entrance. Nearly silently, Spider-Woman opens a hatch to the rooftop. Coulson is a little surprised to hear her do that. That move was not the plan.

The convoy barrels past Gruenwald Avenue on its way to the edge of town. The rigs' rumble sounds through the semi-rural neighborhood, and their yellow headlights show them through the black night toward the old brick building three miles away. The lead rig's driver comments that he can see how Cross thought Oshkosh a sufficiently obscure hiding place for bad wares. Passenger Piledriver is not much of a thinker. He shrugs. Yeah, he guesses.

Suddenly, something rattles Piledriver from his ennui. Once the trucks are in-sight, Spider-Woman launches herself from the warehouse's roof. With a thud, she lands upon the hauler's hood before the surprised eyes of the occupants. Her jab goes straight through the windshield and into the driver's face. He is out. Piledriver lunges through the windshield at Spider-Woman. But, she springs away from him and toward the trailer. Her boots land upon its roof. Her spearhand strike punctures the steel top, and both hands rip the metal wide open. Spider-Woman drops in amidst seven armed foes. Upfront, Piledriver hurries to control the eighteen-wheeler. Sans driver, the huge vehicle could roll-over at any moment. The enhanced being would survive, but the Crosses might lose a lot of men and equipment. The boss Crosses might get cross indeed.

Behind perturbed Piledriver, Spider-Woman destroys her enemy. You can almost hear the thugs bouncing off of the trailer's interior. You can almost feel the sting of the rapid venom-blasts zapping gunmen one-by-one. Six unconscious enemies around her, Spider-Woman moves to the back baydoor. She snaps the door open despite its strong iron lock. Behind Piledriver's vehicle, Darren Cross and his driver are shocked to see her. She runs back up the trailer.

"Spider-Woman!" Darren Cross exclaims, "How?"

"Skycycle!" the driver can exclaim too. A manless skycycle guns out the lead truck's aft. In one second, it will crash through the driver's windshield. He swerves hard left. The rocketing ram mangles the passengerside and upbraids Mr. Cross with glass and shrapnel. Spider-Woman jumps to the second tractor's hood. Then, she leaps to the second trailer's top. She has more goons to eliminate. Coulson should actually have an easy time of it once the blackguards enter the building. They are dropping like flies.

"Good thing that I'm tough," Darren Cross picks and pulls debris from his dense flesh, "Get us to the warehouse, driver. Now! I suspect that Spider-Woman has friends who await us there. I shall crush Spider-Woman and her amazing friends!"

His superior's bloody appearance disquiets the employee, "Y-y-yes sir, Mr. Cross." The rig swings wide and roars past Piledriver's vehicle.

Atop it, Spider-Woman again spearhands into steel and rips the metal open like tinfoil. She prepares to drop down and kick some more ass. But, instead, something bounds the ten feet up to her. It has her by the throat before she can even react. Mad-Dog chokes her furiously. He growls into her face; he slobbers something fierce. She grabs his gripping hands. Frenziedly, he head-butts her several times. Then, stunned Spider-Woman is thrown off the speeding vehicle. Mad-Dog jumps safely from the moving rig's top. He looks over Spider-Woman in the ditch. She gets up and faces him.

"I've waited to rip your throat out and taste your blood for an entire week," Mad-Dog licks his lips.

"I've whipped tougher dog-men in Wundagore," Spider-Woman replies.

"Did they have friends with them?" Mad-Dog indicates Piledriver's big rig circling back. The bestial baddy smiles up to his canines. Darren Cross radioed Piledriver to go back. Up the road, Cross and his goons reach Coulson's warehouse alamo.

The rig rams seventeen tons right through the warehouse's garage door. From the staircase, automatic weaponfire sprays the cab. In this situation, lethal force is not a question for Coulson. The dead driver no longer controls the vehicle. Coulson does. The speeding semi approaches the floor's grate. Coulson activates a massive clamp beneath the grate, and it snaps shut over the front axle. Cross's rig goes from forty to zero in a snap. From the mangled passengerside, Darren Cross goes airborne hooting and hollering. His body crashes through a plate glass window sixty feet away. Within the trailer, goons go flying around too. They are crashed dummies.

Coulson raises a bullhorn. He addresses the rattled crew, "This is Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD. You are involved in a criminal conspiracy to transport illegal materials. Surrender now."

Phil lobs a smoke grenade behind the truck. The aft opens. Thugs moan and groan about their injuries. They cough from the smoke and possible internal bleeding. One answers, "Eat hot laser, superpig!"

Laserbolts barrage all around brave Coulson. The former ranger drops the ten feet from the staircase to the floor safely. As he advances, his assault rifle provides coverfire. "Punks," he grumbles entering the haze.

Thirty seconds earlier, Darren Cross stands-up in the warehouse's receiving office. With irritation, he brushes off sharp glass shards. Outside, Agent Coulson announces his presence. Cross vows to kill Coulson soon. Hell, the mad tycoon will make all involved SHIELD personnel pay. He does not care that they are government law enforcement. He is magnate Darren Cross.

For now, Darren Cross will check on his property. Angry enhanced fists smash through the wall into a laboratory. In this lab, the Crosses have run many inhumane experiments on that doctor's table right over there. Here, the Crosses have built weapons that build a better world for themselves. Here, Cross Technologies have transgressed the laws of humanity and nature. And, some of their inventions and abominations are stored in the very next room. CEO Cross opens the door to the warehouse's vast storage area. The room is totally and unusually dark. Not a man to be hindered, Darren Cross flips the light switch up and down vigorously. Nothing happens.

Then, something does. From the darkness, a fat fist flies and cracks Darren Cross's regal mug. The aristocrat falls on his ass abruptly. Big Bertha towers over him. Like a jenny, the incredible bulk leaps to the lab's high ceiling. "Cannonball!" she shouts. Bertha's ass imprints Darren into crumply old cement. He exhales with a great "uff!"

Spider-Woman exhales vapor into the frigid air as Piledriver drives a fist into her gut. Mad-Dog holds her arms back, and the Wrecking Crewman does some work. The superwoman slides suddenly down in Mad-Dog's arms. The next fist connects directly across the cur's face. He lets go. The nimble heroine handstands in the roadway. Her puissant legs scissorlock Piledriver's head like steel. She flips him into reeling Mad-Dog. The two thugs lie in an undignified pile in the street.

Spider-Woman addresses them, "Listen, you two. This isn't a fair fight. You bozos should go get some more guys."

Wobbly, Mad-Dog rises and growls. His bared teeth pass for a smile, but they do not smile for long. From above, a tether lassos the beast and carries him away at 135 mph. Cap. Seagrum runs him roughly through the treetops and off apartment towers. The wild thing is miles away before he snaps the binding and falls to the ground semi-conscious.

"Just you and me one-on-one. Do you think you can take me?" Piledriver bops his mitts together. He anticipates doing some knuckle drilling.

"You hit like a boy," the superheroine insults him. The two powerhouses snort steam, and they charge each other.

In the smoky warehouse, Phil Coulson faces Darren Cross's thugs. One faces him mere feet away. A riflebutt drops the henchman. One is overhead on a skycycle. Phil flings a magnetic disk at it. The SHIELD-designed scrambler disrupts the hovering craft's systems. The pilot and cycle nosedive hard into the concrete floor. One thug fires laserblasts willy-nilly. He does not know where his foe is. The soldier traces the shots easily back to their source. He throws his second grenade. It is another device from SHIELD labs, and it immobilizes the bad guy in ice. At the trailer bumper, Agent Coulson comes face-to-face with a laser-rifle's muzzle. A punk has the drop on him.

Unexpectedly, a stygian figure yanks the punk into the trailer's darkness. In the box, the wraith wrathfully wrecks Cross's remaining two men. When done, he silently salutes Coulson and slips into the shadows. Coulson smirks, for he knows who that is. And, it is not Cloak, the Shroud, nor the Wraith either. It is good to see him alive.

Elsewhere in the building, Big Bertha and Darren Cross tussle mightily. They have already trashed the lab like brawlers in a china shop. One busted the exam table over the other's head. One whipped the other with electrical cables. Someone threw acid, which missed. Someone threw a bank of cabinets. Someone bludgeoned someone with a steel pipe until that someone punched the attacker through the wall into the next room. The donnybrook continues in the warehouse.

Between towering racking, Big Bertha bearhugs yawping Cross. Indomitable Darren headbutts her hard in the nose. The pain makes her release. Bellicose, Bertha belly-bumps him hard back. Belly bounces him off steel support column. Grinning, she moves in. Grunting, he punches her in the teeth. The massive marvel punches back; the mutate judo-throws her right down the storeroom aisle seventeen feet.

"Give up, little girl," the bad man commands.

"Aaaaaah!" Maw wide open, Big Bertha charges like a nosetackle. The behemoth Bertha rams cocky Cross through steel beams and wooden crates. The racking partially collapses, and Darren is pinned beneath bellowing Bertha. She bites into his shoulder. Now, Cross says "aaaaaah!" with maw wide open. Then, she pukes on him a bit. Darren Cross has highly-irradiated blood.

As stomachjuice seeps into his ear, additional adrenaline infuses Darren Cross's hot blood. His clothes rip more than they have already. Freak Cross benchpresses the frau and the freight pressing him. Beneath tons, he stands up and snaps her upward. Bertha's bones creak with the broken girders, and they nearly snap pressed between Cross's lift and gravity's counterforce. The gargantua loses strength when she loses mass (such as when she barfs).

Cross interrogates pained, pinned powerhouse, "What the hell are you doing here, Bertha? Did SHIELD bring you?"

"A friend did," she lows.

Haughty Cross snorts, "I can guess which one. Apparently, he is alive after Hate-Monger's people blew-up the lake."

Humbled Bertha raspberries, "You can cut the crap. We know that it was you, Cross."

"How did you know about Cross Technologies' secret operations in the Fox Valley?" Cross presses.

"Yo' mutha," Coulson arrives with an insult, "Surrender now, Cross. I can shoot your eye out from this range." The agent aims his rifle at the monster man from twelve feet away.

The enhanced man is very, very quick though—especially when angry. In a mere second, Cross releases Bertha, exits the falling racking, and grabs Coulson's rifle. The rod fractures in the goliath's powerful grip. Seeing the blow coming, Coulson goes limp, and he manages to roll with the ogre's punch. Dust blows into Phil's face as the racking collapses over enervated Big Bertha. She might be dead. Dazed, the SHIELD man struggles to his feet.

Cross-grained Cross is in his face, "Where's my shit Phil Coulson, Agent of SHIELD? I haven't seen it here this evening. Who has it?"

"Yo' mutha," Coulson repeats. Instantaneously, he unsheathes a blade. It slams against the flesh between the brute's ribs. Cross should be coughing blood. But, the dagger goes only a half-inch into the tough meat.

The brute beats his chest like an ape, and he gnarls vociferously. In an instant, Coulson quickdraws his SHIELD machinepistol and fires point blank into the ape's abdomen. The shot should splatter guts and sever the bad guy's spine. It merely gives Cross a fleshwound.

The agent has to think fast. He drops his weapon, "Don't knock my block off. I do still have one of your devices at this location."

The enhanced being seizes Phil's arms. He raises Phil to his face "I could rip your arms off right now. But, you are right. I do need you conscious to show me the materials quickly. Spider-Woman might arrive soon, and I do not need her pestering me."

"Let's go by the storage lockers near the forklifts," Coulson leads the way.


	10. Chapter 10: Snowball's Chance Pt 2

**Chapter 10: Snowball's Chance, Part Two**

"Out of the way," Spider-Woman orders the rough crowd gathered around Piledriver and her.

Their fight began in the warehouse's vicinity. Over two miles, the Avenger and the Wrecking Crewman have fought in the streets, through a junkyard, over a frozen field, across traintracks, through deep snowdrifts, and into a tavern. They have brawled in the barroom. Now, they are in the dive bar's gravel parking lot near the traintracks. Distinctly, Spider-Woman has the advantage. Before her, genuflecting pugilist Piledriver has a black eye and a fat lip. Above her, she hoists someone's beater jalopy. She orders bystanders out of the way. Even the car's owner complies. The Kia Pride crashes down trapping the big brute inside tight quarters. Spider-Woman's victory yell complements a train horn sounding nearby.

Her barbaric yawp is cut short, however. A charging beast blitzes her. Huffing and puffing, winded Mad-Dog returns after sprinting back to the row. Panting, Mad-Dog eyes his prey. Smiling, Piledriver rips himself out of the tin can. He steps determinedly forward. At his boot, a manhole cover slides off. In mid-stride, Piledriver feels someone wrap his leg. He looks.

"You're going down," Doorman announces.

Oblivion's footsoldier pulls Piledriver into the depths. Doorman has finally returned to the earthly plane after healing in the darkforce dimension. He has been very busy tonight. Around eight o'clock, telelocation brought Doorman to the warehouse, and he overheard Coulson and Drew discussing CTE's approaching raiders. The teleporter fetched Big Bertha from the Madison hospital. He told Eddie and Lester to protect Lynn while Bertha was away. Then, he helped Phil Coulson take-out henchmen. Just now, Doorman took Piledriver down into the darkness, leaving Spider-Woman and Mad-Dog to face each other.

"You're bleeding," Mad-Dog sneers across the bar parking lot.

Spider-Woman examines the scene, "You're pretty bloody and battered yourself, but I can fix that for you."

The villain snickers, "Oh, how's that?"

"Let me cauterize those wounds for you," Spider-Woman has spotted a gas grill behind Mad-Dog. Her venom-blast finds the propane tank. The concussion and heat are enough. The dog goes down smoking.

Behind the bar, Doorman dumps Piledriver from the railroad control box onto the train tracks. Doorman disappears back into darkness. Exhausted Piledriver stands up when the train is but eight feet away. The speeding locomotive wrecks the Wrecking Crew member. Piledriver's powerful hands hardly take the initial iron impact, and his feet hardly take skidding swiftly backwards over ties and gravel. He remains in a standing position briefly. At an intersection, Piledriver's ankles and knees buckle, and stopped motorists witness the train suck a man beneath it. The engine drags the lowlife's back and butt over the unforgiving ground. Costume and skin are progressively shredded until—the Fox River Trestle. From the trestle, Piledriver falls into icy flowing waters thirteen-feet below. At least his friction burns should cool off.

Heatedly, Darren Cross addresses Agent Coulson back at the warehouse, "This locker ahead had better contain one of my devices, Phil. Otherwise, I am shoving one of my cousin William's ultrasonic devices into you. I might shove it in your mouth and rattle your brains to pudding. I might shove it into any orifice."

The g-man rolls his eyes, "That won't be necessary, Darren."

"Yeah, Darren, that won't be necessary. If you hurt Phil, I might shove a forklift blade right through you," Ashley Crawford sits upon a forklift near the storage locker. Big Bertha has fully dumped her mass and thereby escaped the racking rubble. Executive Crawford has figured out the forklift's ignition but neither the vehicle's drive nor its forks. Engineer Cross can tell, as could anyone.

Cross shoves Coulson toward the lockers, "Fetch my property. I'm going to remove the rest of the flesh from Bertha's bones." Darren stomps toward Ashley like Frankenstein's Monster. Crawford desperately works at understanding the machine's controls.

Coulson cannot believe that the bad guy takes an eye off of him. Apparently, bodily mutation and absolute power really can affect your brains. Oh well. Coulson led Cross toward this area for a reason anyway.

The SHIELD agent executes his plan. "Hey! Cross, catch!"

The monster-man's hands release Ashley's neck. His huge mitts catch the duffel bag thrown to him.

"Do you know what is in that bag, Darren?" Phil asks.

"No," Darren admits.

"Do you know Eddie Dyson?" Phil asks.

"Yes. Why? Is his dumb head in here?" Cross thinks himself clever. He feels and shakes the gift package.

"Well, your man Constrictor burnt poor Eddie's hands about like this," Coulson crushes the button of the remote control that he also fetched from the locker. It activates the car-melter in the bag. It is a car-melter just like the one with which Crossfire once instantly destroyed an entire truck in this very warehouse. The bag burns up instantly. Then, the melter melts into the monster's hands. Skin and flesh sizzle, stick, and stink smoldering.

Semi-aghast, Ashley announces, "Appropriately, that's payback." Big Bertha has spent much time watching-over the Michaels clan at the hospital. She has seen the hard effects of Crosses' nefarious orders.

Coulson gloats to Cross's shrieking face, "Besides Eddie Dyson, you should know the name Bruno Horgan. He was your fellow evil industrialist. You stole his Melter device after he died."

Heatedly, Cross rips his hands free from the searing device. The sight is as macabre as anyone would imagine. Coulson nearly massively purges like Bertha did. But, he gathers himself instead. Thumbing his nose, the SHIELD commander runs from the mammoth maniac who charges after him. The ranger radios his air cavalry in her flying car. He leads the enemy outside where Cap. Seagrum's large-caliber Gatling does to the terror's torso what the white-hot burner did to his hands and what Coulson's .30 cal could not. Most of Darren Cross drops dead in one spot. Cmdr Coulson does not feel too bad. Darren Cross recently oversaw a terrorist bombing after years of other heinous activities.

Minutes later, Spider-Woman walks up with unconscious Mad-Dog over her shoulder, "Wow, Darren Cross is dead. I did not expect that."

In Madison, Crossfire informs Augustine Cross, "Events did not go as expected. We need to get out of here, out of Wisconsin, out of the U.S." The ten o'clock news reports on the eight o'clock battles in Milwaukee and the Fox Valley. William knew already through other sources that the operations failed.

Mourning son Augustine gathers his thoughts, "We need to hide where neither SHIELD nor the Avengers can find us. Once there, we need to plan some tremendous revenge."

"Agreed," Crossfire—a homicidal schemer—is on-board.


	11. Chapter 11: The Hounds of Winter

**Chapter 11: The Hounds of Winter**

Frank Schlichting inhales bitterly cold air. His nose tells him that it is about zero degrees outside this fine Sunday morning at dawn. He pumps gasoline into a minivan soon heading southward from Kenosha. Frank is glad for a week spent with family in nearby Racine. In his line of work, a person does not always get to spend some time with family, albeit a dysfunctional one. Criminals sometimes have one of those. Still, the visit was good overall. Schlichting would love some relaxing and good times at this very moment. Instead, he has a bothersome stooge in his face.

"Constrictor, that was some week!" Johnny declares for the world to hear.

"Don't call me 'Constrictor'," Frank hisses, "And, don't call attention to us!"

"F**k man, it's just that I'm so f**king proud to work with you," Johnny takes the liberty of slapping Frank's shoulder, "The Sons of the Serpent don't always get to operate so prominently like we did in Mineral Point last week."

Constrictor's eyes narrow, "Don't announce our recent activities to the world, stupid!"

Oblivious, the chucklehead chuckles, "Yeah, you might get the Constrictor suit out of this stolen van here. Everyone would see a famous, bad-ass supervillain kill a f**ker." The minivan is supposed to keep the group inconspicuous.

A woman looks over from another pump. She looks at incognito Constrictor. Constrictor glares back. She looks at the ground. Her dark sunglasses help disguise her apparent fear.

"We ain't got no supervillains in Wisconsin. I don't think," she utters.

"No, you don't," Frank scrutinizes the woman's license plate and appearance. But, he does not recognize Agent Roni King of SHIELD.

"Heh-heh-heh, you sure are bad-ass," Johnny actually punches Frank's shoulder, "What's the most bad-ass thing that you ever done?"

"In the near future, I'm pretty sure that I skinned a fool alive," the bad man hangs-up the nozzle. The woman does a pay at the pump and hurries into her car.

The stooge hangs in Frank's face. His breath smells like the gasoline around them. Yeah, the dumbass is drunk at 7 a.m. "Hey, you ever give Power Man a good whipping? You ever skin Cap's sidekick Falcon a bit? You know, Falcon is the new Captain America. It makes me wanna. . . . ."

Schlichting snarls back, "You make me want to puke. I'm a professional. . . . ."

"Don't nobody puke, man," someone interjects, "I brought some fast food. There's a Kwikkee Burger inside the Roxxon station." Stanley brings a greasy, steaming bag through the frigid morn. Dimwit Andy has a newspaper.

"Hey, someone fought a super battle at the Lazer Club in Milwaukee last night," Andy reports.

"That was our group, you dumbf**k!" thinks Frank to himself. He motions the three brusquely to get into the van. Everyone does. Turning the ignition, Frank thinks to himself about how the three stooges have perhaps served their purpose. These simple-minded Sons of the Serpent worship the ground that Constrictor walks upon. To them, Frank Schlichting is a local Racine boy done good in the criminal underworld, and he even has a cool snake identity. However, the professional hitman cannot have three dummies along for his next job, and he cannot stand to have three bigoted losers associating with him. Even a famous murderer has standards, and supremacist lowlifes are not his crowd. Constrictor might try to kill Luke Cage, but never out of hatred.

Beside Frank, Johnny burps into his ear, "BRAP! Hey, ain't your next job in Indianapolis? The gang should be briefed and stuff."

"You guys are going south alright," Frank guns the minivan southward. But, he does not return to I-94 toward Chicago onward toward Indy. He takes a frontage road toward a county highway instead. No one will see the van disappear into some swampland popular with the Chicago mob, Frank's past employer.

"Hey, where are we going?" Andy surprises Frank with a smart question.

"Des Plaines River Floodplain and Marsh," Stanley can read a sign.

"Outlaws like to hide things in this swamp," Schlichting explains as the van bounces over uneven frozen dirtroad. His companions are progressively rattled and disoriented. Schlichting whips a shitty that amuses his companions and that slams the three morons around a bit.

"Are we all here?" Andy rubs his softened melon.

"You guys are here. Get out," the serpent tells his sons, "I'll be right behind you." The flunkies file from the van into frosty, tall dead grass. To the north, there is a solid tree line in the distance. To the east, the sun rises over an industrial complex and road. Dawn's light blinds anyone from seeing much to the east, but it does make the hoary grass shimmer like hidden treasure. Frank digs in the minivan's glovebox.

"Alright, move forward. I want to give you boys something out in the swamp. Be careful for frozen streams though. I don't want you to die from drowning," Frank points out into the swamp.

"What's in the swamp?" inebriated Johnny stands there lumpishly.

"A cask of amontillado," Schlichting states sarcastically, "Just get marching ahead of me. The Serpent Society has some stuff stashed in this area. I want to give it to you."

"Cool! Sidewinder is from Fond du Lac north of here. He probably has neat crap stored around here," Stanley might be dumb as a post. But, he does know his criminal scum.

The four miscreants march over the frozen mud and stiff reeds. It is hard going. But, three of them imagine themselves to be hard men. One is, of course. Through a gunscope, someone watches them from the treeline. He knows camouflage well. The quartet does not spot him. With his rifle, he would prefer most to shoot Constrictor dead and take the head off of the snake. But, the lead target is in dense cover with three idiots in front of him.

"Johnny, go up ahead. The stash is right over there," Frank Schlichting instructs. Johnny steps onto a trail in the foliage, and he is clearly defined between rows of reeds. The ex-SHIELD assassin has a clear shot. The stooge walks about twenty-five feet from the group. A bullet blasts through his back and his right lung. In the treeline, Punisher sees the flash but hears no report. Beside Schlichting, two dummies stand agape smelling the gunsmoke from the silencer.

"I could have done a headshot or a heartshot. But, I want Johnny there to suffer," the professional hitman coldly explains, "You get a headshot." Stanley's brains blow from his skull in a plume.

Andy drops to his knees, "Don't do it, Schlichting! You'll be the next one to die. I have powerful friends."

Constrictor whips the pistol across Andy's face, "The Sons of the Serpent are a pathetic organization. Don't bother threatening me."

Andy's mien seems less doltish than usual. He looks his adversary in the eye, "I am actually Wakandan. I am with Wakanda's security forces. Trust me. We are no pathetic organization."

"You don't look Wakandan, redneck," Constrictor comments.

"I am a contractor. A caucasian agent can infiltrate the Sons of the Serpent more readily than King T'Challa's usual forces," Andy states.

The hitman scratches his chin, "Well, the Sons did kidnap Black Panther years back [see _Avengers_ #74]. He would probably keep permanent tabs on them." Constrictor considers the possibility while considering the supposed mercenary. Suddenly, Andy stands up aggressively.

Suddenly, Andy explodes all over Frank in a gory mess. The hitman jolts in surprise. Punisher smirks at the .50 cal's psychological effect. Now, he will blow a big hole in Constrictor. The large caliber should penetrate Constrictor even if wearing his "bullet-proof" suit. Schlichting sprints into the swamp's vegetation. He disappears behind this and that concealment. Patiently, Punisher awaits his clear killshot.

Out of nowhere, a bo staff knocks the sniper rifle skyward with Punisher's finger in the trigger. A shot blasts through the evergreen boughs. With malice, Punisher turns to face his foe. Mockingbird separates her staff into two battering batons. Punisher quickdraws a sidearm for close combat. Swiftly, a baton knocks it from his hand. He pulls a long knife. Swiftly, a baton knocks it from his hand. Mockingbird agilely snapkicks him in the chin before sweepkicking out his shins. Punisher falls facefirst into the dirt. He grabs a big, sturdy fallen treebranch. Yelling, he jumps to his feet. The big stick threatens. Two blurring batons shatter it.

"Give up, Castle," Agent Bobbi Morris orders, "SHIELD needs Constrictor alive for interrogation."

Punisher stares her down, "Don't make me take you hand-to-hand."

Mockingbird rolls her eyes hard, "Come on, Frank."

Elsewhere. "Come on, Frank. Surrender," Agent Roni King stands before Frank Schlichting's escape minivan. She holds a drawn sidearm. She wears a familiar pair of cheaters. They looked at Constrictor and Johnny just fifteen minutes earlier.

Constrictor aims his semi-auto, "You SHIELD people left a bait car in Racine. We four fools stole it. Then, you traced our every movement this morning with it. Being an ex-agent, I should have probably anticipated your tactics. However, I was black ops. I'll just use those skills to get out of this mess."

"You won't shoot me because I am SHIELD. I have a corps of capable colleagues who would avenge me," King aims her sidearm.

Constrictor scoffs, "You won't kill me either. I too have very powerful and fierce friends. Some are even Masters of Evil."

" It's a non-lethal round, dummy," King fires a mercy bullet into Schlichting's chest. Ironically, the round delivers an artificial dendrotoxin, and dendrotoxin is snake venom. Snakebit Constrictor tumbles woozily to the ground. Agent Roni King chortles. She will have to tell her baby at home what Mommy did today. Restraints go on Constrictor's limbs. King radios Morris.

Mockingbird lowers her battle staves, "Beat it, Frank Castle. My fellow SHIELD operative just apprehended Constrictor. However, I am going to let you go."

Punisher rises from the dirt. He has been outmatched in this hand-to-hand fight, "You should let me kill that s.o.b."

"I should figuratively kill you for disrupting a SHIELD operation. Instead, I'll allow you to leave," Mockingbird explains, "Agent King and I wanted to tail Constrictor and his buddies to their next job. He screwed-up that operation."

Punisher explains, "I know that you understand getting your hands dirty, Mockingbird. Word gets around. You should have let me shoot him. He hurt a friend of mine."

"I've dropped some reprobates in my time. In fact, I famously dropped Phantom Rider off a cliff [see _West Coast Avengers_ #23]," Mockingbird admits, "However, neither one of us is killing Constrictor today."

Punisher glares. With his fingers, he feigns shooting Mockingbird. The ex-marine about-faces and trudges through the woods to his battlevan on the road. He has a further mission of vengeance to pursue.


	12. Chapter 12: Boreas Bears South

**Chapter 12: Boreas Bears South**

"Where the hell is Constrictor?" Wendy "Bombshell" Conrad kicks the hotel mattress high. Keyed up, she paces the room.

"I don't know, Bombshell. He is not in the news," Orville "Oddball" Bock lounges on the room's other bed. His laptop is in his lap, and newspapers lie around him. He even watches the room's muted television. Perhaps, cable news will report something. He eyes agitated Wendy nervously.

Bombshell looks ready to blow. She looks out the of sixth-story window. Indianapolis starts its day beneath her. She shakes her head, "Ten days. Crossfire dispatched us here ten days ago. He separated us from the other Death-Throws and sent us here to set-up a double-hit."

"I could use a double too. Let's have screwdrivers for breakfast," Orville contributes, "It is Fat Tuesday."

Wendy continues her crowing, "Today, we are supposed to do some rich bitch living in Carmel, IN, just north of here, and we are also supposed to terminate some guy in Louisville two hours south. The killings are supposed to happen nearly simultaneously; therefore, we need a complete team for this job. We need the Death-Throws, Constrictor, and the three Sons of the Serpent that he mentioned."

Oddball continues his partner's thoughts, "The plan is that a huge bomb blows the rich bitch's mansion off her huge estate grounds. Then, Constrictor and his degenerates move-in to finish her off. To the south, a nerve gas bomb incapacitates the other target. We don't need a large explosion in downtown Louisville. Then, the Death-Throws move in to finish him off."

"Prima Donna and Vox," Bombshell names the two marks, "They are Avenger associates."

"They could be really dead about now!" Oddball feigns outrage in sympathy.

"Where the hell is Constrictor?!" Bombshell decompresses.

"SHIELD might have him," Orville speculates, "However, the news does not mention him in either the Milwaukee or Fox Valley incidents. Instead, media reports that SHIELD and Avengers captured our Ringleader and Tenpin with Mr. Fear and Mad-Dog elsewhere. Knickknack, Throwdown, and Darren Cross are all dead. Maybe, Constrictor is captured or dead too."

Wendy purses her lips, "Well, we are not contacting Crossfire for information. I guarantee that William and Augustine Cross are underground right about now."

"What do we do now?" Oddball asks.

The femme fatale deliberates. Then, she demands, "Give me your laptop."

Oddball knows to do it. He hands it over, "Why do you need the computer?"

"I have been visiting a certain clandestine chatroom. I have a friend named Zelda DuBois. Her internet handle is, of course, different than that though," Wendy Conrad types.

"Her criminal name is Princess Python," Bock displays research knowledge.

"We're joining the Circus of Crime. Possibly, they could use two sociopathic jugglers. At least, I think that we could fit right in," Bombshell declares.

"The other Death-Throws are all either incarcerated or dead. We might as well hang with a different group for awhile," Orville plays with a ball, "Where is the Circus located right now?"

"South."

Three hours south, Crossfire sits at a café's large window. He is incognito. A realistic mask covers his distinct cybernetic features. Louisville is an alright town. It is pretty enough to behold and interesting enough to explore. William Cross gets here occasionally, but he is not sentimental about the city.

Cross is sentimental about the young man across the street. In secret identity, Vox leaves the headquarters for Action Pack, an Avengers affiliate. Crossfire inhales the pungent vapor from his coffee. He sighs. Vox is his son by criminal psychologist Rozalyn Backus (see _Spider-Man: Breakout_ LS). But, he needs his son dead. The ungrateful bastard child stole pa's sonic weaponry; then, he had the goddam nerve to use it for superheroing. Ideally, Crossfire could murder his boy in the street right now. But, Crossfire must keep a low profile. Hopefully, Bombshell and her crew have figured something out. William needs his son and his son's worthless enhanced girlfriend Donna dead.

William finishes his java and jelly donut. Augustine Cross crosses the criminal's mind, and he wonders how Augustine does on the lam. Crossfire walks to his car on the street and prepares to drive southeast.

In southeast Wisconsin, Doorman sits beside Cap. Constance Seagrum on a very comfortable leather sofa. Morning's sunlight streams pleasantly into the finely-furnished study. Before them coffee, OJ, and pastries sit upon the coffee table this Fat Tuesday morn. Doorman can really make the food disappear into himself. He eats like a man who has been dead.

Doorman pauses in his consumption momentarily, "Constance, I have a question for you."

"Please ask it," she says.

"An angel of death gets around creation. Seemingly, I hear a little bit about everything that happens," Doorman turns to her, "For example, I know that SHIELD subdued a rampaging, rogue Deathlok awhile back in Las Vegas [see _Deathlok_ v.3 #1-3]. 'Seagrum' was one of SHIELD's heroic air cavalry on that day. However, that Cap. Seagrum was distinctly a man."

"So, what is your question?" Cap. Seagrum seems somewhat amused.

"Are you the same Seagrum somehow?" Doorman gets to his query.

"I am, DeMarr," Constance clinks cups with Doorman, "SHIELD is ever a progressive organization, for a security agency. However, the air cavalry was still an old boys' club in 1999. I pretended to be a man. In my mind, at the time, it was actually the most comfortable situation for everyone. Looking back, it was more than a bit sad that I had to masquerade." [see author's note at the bottom]

"Oh," both DeMarr and Constance are glad that times have changed.

"We'll get started," Cmdr Coulson starts the debriefing. Doorman and Cap. Seagrum sit at his twelve. Mr. Immortal sits in a plush chair at the agent's ten. And, Flatman lounges at his two. Agent Tia Senyaka and Walter Newell stand. Big Bertha, Captain Ultra, Spider-Woman, Mockingbird, and Agent Veronica King are absent.

"I know that Big Bertha is near Madison," Mr. Immortal states, "And, Mockingbird made sure to say goodbye before leaving. Apparently, Hawkeye needs help against the Russian mob in Brooklyn [see _Hawkeye_ v.315-22]. But, where are Captain Ultra and Spider-Woman?"

"Spider-Woman, Spider-Woman, no one knows where she is," Flatman references an old kids' show. People chuckle.

"Yeah, we'll go with that," Phil Coulson decides not to reveal Spider-Woman's whereabouts. Sometimes, secret avengers must remain secreted.

"And, where is Roni?" Tia references Agent King.

Coulson answers, "Roni is in Indiana right now. We suspect that the remaining Death-Throws are also in that state."

Senyaka is concerned, "She isn't going after Bombshell and Oddball herself, is she? Granted, she apprehended Constrictor solo recently. But, I would not push my luck if I were her."

"No, no, no," Cmdr Coulson explains, "She accompanied Frank Schlichting to the federal prison at Terre Haute. Hopefully, the Death-Throws have no plans to break him out. Roni would be in over her head in such a scenario."

"Well, she would only need to alert us," Doorman reassures, "I could get the Great Lakes Champions there in an instant."

"That's good to know," Coulson grants, "You would not have Captain Ultra to fly you."

"Where is Captain Ultra anyway?" Cap. Seagrum asks.

"He returned to other duties in Nebraska," Coulson informs.

"Nebraska has crises?" Flatman is a snot.

"You might be surprised," the commander elucidates, "Avengers Yellowjacket and Paragon each lost his mind there on separate occasions. Hulk rampaged there once. Noted villain Ringer is from the Cornhusker State."

"Captain Ultra could be another crazy," Flatman snorts.

"Captain Ultra is goofy but beautiful. He saved our bacon," Dr. Newell states.

"He saved Milwaukee. My hat is off for that," mutually goofy Immortal pretends to tip a pretend cap to his teammate. Mutually goofy Flatman apes Immortal's act of gratitude.

Senyaka moves along the meeting, "We have covered the good guys. We have learned about Constrictor. What do we need to know about the other lawbreakers' activities?"

Coulson has connected his computer to the study's big TV. Abruptly, the shredded body of Darren Cross appears on the big, hi-def screen. Phil states, "Darren Cross is no longer a threat. SHIELD technicians collected his irradiated body and scattered flesh after Cap. Seagrum brought him down. Granted, Mr. Cross has returned from the dead several times. However, SHIELD has at least stored him away in a well-run government facility."

"SHIELD has also moved CTE's illegal devices to safe keeping," Agent Senyaka tells the room, "Our eggheads currently examine them. Government inspectors check out the Cross facilities nationwide. Cross head of security K.H. Keeshan co-operates with us fully—which is good of him."

Stingray comments, "Cross Technologies is ever an interesting one. They have been both the good guys and the bad guys. Fellow Avengers Iron Man, Ant-Man, and Hawkeye have had close dealings with the corporation. Hawkeye even worked for Cross Tech briefly. CTE is a benevolent American company—when the Cross family isn't majorly breaking the law."

"Augustine and William Cross are members of that family. Where are they? Do we have any clues?" Cap. Seagrum sips Sumatran java.

"Augustine has disappeared. Crossfire has disappeared," Phil puts their images on-screen.

"Augustine is around. I sense," comments Doorman.

Cmdr Coulson is unsure what to make of that comment. To his knowledge, no one knows Augustine's whereabouts.

"SHIELD has a possible lead on Crossfire's location and plans," Tia mentions, "SHIELD consultant Rozalyn Backus has predicted William's likely future plans."

"I would like to go after him. His hirelings kind of ruined my Valentine's Day and terrorized the mother of my kids," Stingray squares-up his shoulders resolutely.

"I might just join you," peer Mr. Immortal adds.

"Good, let us discuss future plans," Coulson continues the meeting. And, the meeting goes on for a few hours.

Hours after that, the Michaels finish their afternoon meal 150 miles west of Port Washington. Their Iowa County farmhouse celebrates Fat Tuesday. But mostly, father Lester Michaels celebrates the return of his beloved daughter Lynn. She is out of the hospital and at the family dining table. Eddie Dyson, Ashley Crawford, and neighbor Tim Mulrooney join the celebration.

Ashley pushes herself away from the table. Big Bertha announces, "My gut is stuffed. Those were some good victuals, Lester."

"Thank you," Mr. Michaels replies, "I grow some sweet corn on this farm, and I hunt some pheasant in those same cornfields [see _Punisher War Journal_ #78]. It was a pleasure to provide some food from the larder. Today is my daughter's homecoming. We need to feast."

"I appreciate the welcome. This chow beats hospital food," Lynn sits wrapped in a flannel shawl. She will recover over time.

"Eddie and I were honored to cook for you," octogenarian Mulroony pats her hand. He is a nice old man.

"And, I was honored to watch over you, Lynn, during your convalescence," Crawford fetches her mohair mantle, "The Great Lakes Champions are all glad that we could bring you some justice and some peace. We caught a few menaces over the weekend."

"But, some are still out there. Is that correct?" Lady Punisher squares her shoulders determinedly.

"Please do not worry about them. The GLC will hunt them down," Big Bertha counsels, "Your family has crossed the Cross family enough."

Silently, Lynn acknowledges Ashley's words. Lester and Tim thank her for coming. Eddie walks Ms. Crawford to the door, and he watches her depart in her luxury car. Then, he has to care for the herd in the barn. Inside, Lester dresses warmly to join him. Tim and Lynn clear the table and prepare to do dishes.

"I see that you can do light exertion," Tim tells Lynn, "That's good."

"I will be better. I must recover," Lynn closes her eyes, "The Lady Punisher has some punishing to do."

"I'll help," Mr. Mulroony asserts earnestly.

"I know," Lynn knows, "My father's name is Lester J. Michaels for a reason. You encouraged his parents back in 1946 to name him after local hero Jeff Jordan."

"In the old days, Jeff and I fought crime together as Captain Wonder and Tim. Jeff was everyone's hero. He was my hero," Tim reminisces, "I had to memorialize him somehow when he disappeared during Germany's fall in 1945. I had to keep his memory forever alive. That is why I told your dad to enlist in 1964. That is why I seconded your older sister's suggestion that you join the NYPD out there in Manhattan."

Lynn replies, "Well, I suppose that some Captain Wonder flows through my veins."

Tim Mulrooney grins at her comment. He changes the subject, "Lester, Eddie, and I have discussed getting the Michaels family some justice. That Cross family really did a number on Les, Eddie, and you. We would like to get some black pudding. Not that we are ungrateful for the punishment that the GLC and SHIELD handed-out. Les loves what happened to Mr. Fear in Milwaukee, and he loves what happened to those three dead thugs in Kenosha."

"I don't mind that Darren Cross and his thugs died in Oshkosh," the female vigilante adds, "But, I would love to get my hands dirty too."

"You mean dirty with blood. A terrorist attack produces such ire," good old Mr. Mulrooney knows, "Well, you'll be glad to know that your friend Frank Castle contacted us. He does not know the whereabouts of Augustine Cross. However, he does have leads on Crossfire. How would you like to go after Crossfire right soon?" Lynn punches the old sidekick in the side. Tim knows.

Far away, a passenger plane lands. The day is Ash Wednesday here. Augustine Cross considers going to holy mass. Certainly, he should give thanksgiving for his escape. Certainly, he should light a candle for his dear, departed daddy Darren. But, on some level, Augustine Cross knows that he is a bad man. He abets terrorist bombings. He kidnaps kids such as Cassie Lang (see _Ant-Man_ #4-5). His mad scientists resurrect his father and perform other abominations. Augustine should simply skip church and continue to his destination.

At baggage claim, several gendarmes guard the arriving travelers. One particular gendarme takes an interest in Augustine. He comes near and closely studies Augustine's face. Something does not look right about it. The wretch looks back worried.

"Pass, mein Herr," the cop requests.

"Ja sicher. Ein moment, bitte," Cross knows some German. With a tremor, he hands over the passport.

The guard examines Augustine, and he examines the passport. "You are Phillip DeWolff from the U.S. Welcome to Switzerland."

Little Auggie feels big relief behind his disguise. A fake mustache sits upon his face beneath hair dyed gray. Make-up provides Auggie the skin of a man twice his age. Crossfire has done a good job making his cousin resemble the late police commissioner Phillip DeWolff. Cross need only use the dead man's identity for awhile longer; then, fugitive Cross disappears into Switzerland. Cousin William has already made arrangements with an associate of his. Little Auggie is greatly relieved. He is a wolf successfully secreted in a sheep's clothing.

Then, the gendarme says, "Please come with me, Mr. DeWolff. I wish to run the passport's bar code. You will be going somewhere soon. I assure you."

 **Author's note** : On-line sources list SHIELD pilot Seagrum as "Constance". That is a female name. Therefore, I wrote Cap. Seagrum as a female in early drafts of this fanfic. Later, I attained "her" Deathlok appearances, and I discovered that Seagrum is definitely male in those comics. I considered editing the written chapters. However, I decided to keep Seagrum's gender as is. Her story makes a social statement. Sadly, in America, capable women are not always accepted into "men's" work even to this day. Seagrum's story comments.


	13. Chapter 13: Go Right

**Chapter 13: Go Right**

"How did you get this number?" Piledriver expresses his surprise. Crossfire has called him.

"We spies are good at getting information, Brian," Crossfire smugly states.

"Well, I hope you ain't calling to hire me. I'm back with my old crew," Piledriver speaks into his cell. The south Florida landscape blurs by the backseat in which he sits. All four Wrecking Crew travel in a large sedan. They are out of costume so as to not draw attention. Leader Dirk "Wrecker" Garthwaite still drives like the maniac that he is, however.

"You are with the Wrecking Crew?" Crossfire sounds pleased, "Tell them that I say 'hello' and that I want to hire all of them."

"It's Crossfire. He wants to hire the Crew," the backseat communicates with the driver.

"F*** that," Wrecker replies.

"The Wrecker says 'f*** that', so I guess we ain't doing that," Piledriver shares, "Actually, we got our own brilliant plans."We're, uuuumm, going to Texas to rob Texas Twister and Shooting Star for the Secret Empire." Brian Calusky is pleased. That was a really clever lie (in his opinion).

"Oh well, more power to ya," Crossfire's pun references Prof. Power, "We shall meet again down the road. I am sure."

"Yeah bye," Piledriver ends call.

Crossfire examines the sea. This evening, Miami's Biscayne Bay offers good sailing weather. Crossfire will have to make his get-away without an enhanced bodyguard or four. Which is b.s. The Wrecking Crew is not in Texas. The group is just north of here—as Cross tech indicated. However, scoundrel Crossfire counts his blessings. He has been lucky so far. SHIELD has not caught him—yet.

"We need to go," William calls to his wife down the dock.

"I don't want to go," Inga replies.

"We need to get the hell out of Miami, sweety," Crossfire states simply.

Speeding southward, Dirk declares, "We should reach Miami by nightfall."

Dr. Eliot "Thunderball" Franklin sits also in the frontseat, "I like your plan to rob the Slug, Dirk."

"He's a second-rate Kingpin wannabe," Henry "Bulldozer" Camp talks tough behind Thunderball, "I mean. What's fatso gonna do against us? Blubber his eyes out?"

Behind Wrecker, Piledriver notices something, "Hey, boss, we're low on gas."

"Yeah, I guess speeding depletes the tank. You should always follow the law," meathead Garthwaite hams it up.

"There's a town ahead," Camp states the obvious. There is a roadsign to the immediate right.

"Welcome to Citrusville," Calusky can read. The car slows.

"And, Citrusville has some welcome sights," Franklin points. A petite blonde walks the roadside into town. She wears short shorts and a bikini top. Jennifer Kale is bewitching as the sun descends on the Wrecking Crew.

"Hey, baby, need a ride?" Dirk tries a, well, pick-up line.

"Squeeze in, little girl," Henry really knows how to gain a babe's trust.

The lone witch considers the four wooers in the car. Specifically, she considers their auras. She says, "Sure, let's go out into the swamp. You can give me a ride there."

Thunderball's jaw drops. Piledriver punches Bulldozer playfully in the shoulder. Somewhere in the swamp, a certain Man-Thing stirs and awaits four brainless idiots and compatriot Ms. Kale.

Up the Atlantic coast, there is Washington DC. It has many foreign embassies. The Wakandan embassy is one of them. American MelanieTerrance has been given permission to enter it. In fact, she has been given permission to speak with King T'Challa himself before he visits the White House. The king's time is very valuable; however, Mrs. Terrance's story has moved him. Her late husband was Dick Terrance, and he was the Wakandan agent lost in Wisconsin recently. Meeting Mrs. Terrance is the right thing to do, and the Black Panther does the right thing.

Sighing, Mel begins, "Dick was my husband. He always loved working for you guys. He was always grateful that Wakandan intelligence recruited him."

King T'Challa is displeased that Terrance discussed his intelligence work with family, but the monarch does not criticize the man to his widow.

Mel continues, "Our entire family was grateful. We even moved from Sparta, Illinois, to Chicago for you guys. You paid our bills very well, and you brought the adventure into Dick's life that he sought."

"Yes, I hear that your husband even encountered the Hulk and X-Factor once [see _Incredible Hulk_ #336]. He had an admirable intrepidness within," T'Challa acknowledges, "His bravery was one reason that Wakanda had him doing undercover work in America."

"Well, he was also from Chicago originally. Therefore, he could mimic the dialect of someone from Racine when he infiltrated the Sons of the Serpent," Melanie further explains.

The king winces. Mrs. Terrance really does know a lot of classified information. "Agent Terrance will be missed," he concludes.

Mrs. Terrance continues, "I am glad to hear that. Hopefully, you agree that Dick should not have died the way that he did. It was a very gruesome end. Possibly, the noted killer Constrictor did the awful deed. The internet reports that SHIELD might have apprehended Constrictor immediately after Dick and his two cohorts died."

"That is possible," Black Panther acknowledges. He knows fully that SHIELD bagged Constrictor.

"I want you to investigate my husband's death," Mel Terrance states, "I want you, Black Panther, to find his killer. And, I want the guilty brought to justice."


	14. Chapter 14: Blue Skies

**Chapter 14: Blue Skies**

Constrictor plays racquetball on St. Patrick's Day. A month has passed since SHIELD apprehended him. The organization brought him here to Terre Haute's federal prison. Supermax has some super strict rules. Most of the time, Frank Schlichting sits in solitary confinement, just like other inmates. However, the prison allows him some exercise in a small courtyard every day. Officials are even generous enough to provide racquetball equipment and four hard walls off of which to play the game. Fair skies hang over the steel grate above the courtyard.

Suddenly, a swift black glove snatches the swift black ball from the air. Someone has snuck-up on Schlichting. He turns to look. Sweat drips over his face. Beside him, Black Panther stands glowering in ominous obsidian.

The Panther speaks, "I am T'Challa, king of Wakanda."

"I am Frank Schlichting, prisoner of the United States," Constrictor tosses his racquet aside. Possibly, the Avenger is here to fight. But, Frank does not want to do that sans his Constrictor suit. Thus, he is unarmed and friendly.

"You are a wise man, Mr. Schlichting," T'Challa seems to smile behind his mask, "The Black Panther routinely thrashes hoods such as you."

"To what do I owe this honor, king," Frank sounds unimpressed.

Black Panther pulls back his mask. He can be disarming and friendly too. The monarch speaks, "I have come personally to talk to you instead of sending an aide."

"Yeah, I get that I should be honored," Frank is still not impressed, "Did the prison grant you access to me because you're an Avenger."

"Indeed."

"And, are you here about Andy? Was he really a Wakandan agent?" Frank gets to the point. Frank remembers the Son of the Serpent's strange claim to be an undercover foreign agent.

"His real name was Dick Terrance. Yes, I am here to discuss his murder," T'Challa gets to the point too.

Clouds roll in over the blue sky above. Prisoner Schlichting wipes his face with his tanktop. He composes himself slightly, "I was only told to help Mr. Fear intimidate some poor hicks near Madison. The three degenerates with me helped me in turn."

"Did you know that Andy secretly worked for us?" Panther's face is in Constrictor's.

"Hell no."

The rex backs off slightly, "I believe you. I am good at reading faces. Also, my intelligence services inform that you did not kill Dick like you did his associates. A .50 caliber rifle claimed him from some distance away, and we Wakandans suspect that the Punisher fired that weapon. We suspect that you and he are unlikely to be working together."

Constrictor guffaws, "Yeah, you got that right."

"In fact, he probably wanted to kill you as well that recent morning," the hero asserts.

"Someone shot at me after splattering Andy. It's true," Frank recalls.

"Punisher wants you dead for attacking Payback near Madison," Panther lets Constrictor know that Panther knows a lot, "His planned vengeance is one reason that you might want to disappear, Mr. Schlichting."

Drizzle begins falling through the grate, and the air is a wee chillier. This conversation seems like an interview and an opportunity. Apparently, Constrictor can disappear into somewhere other than prison. "Go on. Say more," says Frank.

Black Panther explains, "As stated, the late Andy was actually Dick Terrance. Mr. Terrance was from Sparta, Illinois. Wakandan intelligence hired him when the repairman sought work in nearby St. Louis where my agents had infiltrated Nugent Technologies."

"In turn, Dick Terrance infiltrated the Sons of the Serpent for Wakanda," Schlichting surmises.

"He did so gladly. Dick two things in life: adventure for himself and stability for his family. The man once even tried to turn over the Hulk to mutant hunters for quick cash," T'Challa smirks.

"Is that right?" the assassin forces a chuckle.

"Of course, everyone needs release and money, including you, Frank," Black Panther states, "I believe that you have a daughter whom you support anonymously."

"Yeah, Mia Payne in New Jersey," Frank acknowledges (see _Nick Fury, Agent of SHIELD_ #36).

"Well, I would like to offer you the funds and freedom to do something for yourself and her," the magnate gets to business, "I would like to offer you Dick's vacated position."

The cold rain cleans Frank's sweaty head. He thinks. "Would I get out of f***ing federal prison?" he inquiries.

"Yes, you would have to," T'Challa acknowledges, "I need you to infiltrate the Sons of the Serpent in the Chicago area."

"Why would a federal prison let me out?" Constrictor wants to know, "I am a murderer and a so-called super-villain."

"Yours is a complex reputation, Mr. Schlichting," King T'Challa elucidates, "Yes, you are known for your dark deeds done for nefarious parties. However, you are also known for your occasional service to SHIELD and the Avengers. You have potential."

Frank grants, "I did kill those two Sons of the Serpent for the common good."

"Killing does not often put one on the side of the angels," the hero remonstrates, "However, you have proven that you do not care for degenerates such as the Sons of the Serpent."

"I don't care for the Sons. But, if I infiltrate them, how do I know that the Sons would care for me? I whacked two of their guys," Constrictor points-out, "They might just whack me right back."

Black Panther suggests, "Tell the Sons that you had good reason to kill their people, or tell them that Punisher killed all three of their men. My people can help you construct a good cover story."

Constrictor considers, "They might not care about the killings at all. The Sons of the Serpent are a tough crowd. Plus, the Constrictor is a heavy-hitter bigger than the organization's average loser."

"Wakanda shall take care of you," the monarch swears, "In fact, I might even grant you asylum in Wakanda once your mission is complete. You might never see a U.S. prison again."

"You'll take care of me?" the prisoner is surprised and amused. Black Panther actually thinks that he can control Constrictor. Schlichting slicks back his hair in the rain.

"You should take this offer," T'Challa tells Frank, "You have a lot to gain—including freedom and money. Are you taking the job?"

Constrictor considers the prison walls, "Yeah, I guess."


	15. Chapter 15: The Barreling Zephyr

**Chapter 15: The Barreling Zephyr**

"I guess that this is the plan," Tia Senyaka shifts uncomfortably on a wooden barstool.

"Correct, we are here to kill a man," Al MacKenzie swigs some rum. He does not seem too bothered about his current business. In the inn's basement, Tia and Mac sit away from each other. She at the bar. He at the table with refreshments. The basement restaurant is closed, for it is the Lord's Day in Switzerland.

Senyaka fidgets in her chair. She recognizes their current endeavor's apparent necessity. The United States government has. That is why Washington dispatches Tia and Al to Europe.

Still, Agent Senyaka is SHIELD, "SHIELD is typically law enforcement. We capture criminals. We don't typically terminate them. And, we don't typically operate with international criminals to get to other international criminals."

"The CIA does do those kinds of things," Mac states, "That is why your SHIELD contacted their old buddy in the agency." Mac was the CIA liaison to Nick Fury's group for a while. He even joined them on a few adventures.

"Thank you for coordinating this black op," Tia feigns graciousness.

Mac consumes some food and drink, "Grindelwald, Switzerland, seems nice."

"It is where Montenegro, the Man from the Black Mountain, bases himself. It is where Augustine Cross currently hides. The European assassin and gangster took in the fugitive American industrialist," Senyaka discusses Grindelwald.

Mac replies, "Well, I hope that Montenegro comes down soon from the Schwarzhorn. That means 'black mountain' in German."

"Montenegro means 'black mountain' in French," Tia contributes.

"I have arrived," announces a voice in the cellar's doorway.

Montenegro stands tall as a ram and broad as a bear in the doorway. The mountainman gazes from beneath the shaggy red hair cascading into his great red beard. A long wooly coat circumscribes his barrelchest, and he stands akimbo in his elkhide boots.

"Karl Kaufman," Mac stands and offers a hand—and an alias.

Montenegro takes MacKenzie's hand, "You are not Karl Kaufman. You are Alfonso MacKenzie of the CIA."

Montenegro releases Mac's hand. Montenegro has just informed the intelligence agent that the criminal knows a few things. Mac should be taken aback. But, he is amused actually, "Well, I thought that 'Karl Kaufman' was a neat way to remember the victims of your lodger's terrorist attack. Karl Kaufman was the Phantom Eagle during WWI, and he was also a hero from the United States' Fox Valley. Your houseguest Augustine Cross bombed the Fox Valley. Like Phantom Eagle, I want to visit Europe to kick some ass."

The big man asks, "Will the CIA physician at your hotel also be kicking some ass?"

Mac is not so amused. He states plainly, "No, the surgeon is along to remove Augustine Cross's head. He won't be operating on Augustine's ass at all." Tia is quite disturbed.

"Really? You want to remove my houseguest's head? Is that move punitive?" Montenegro is a little surprised.

"Not particularly," Mac winks assuredly, "The CIA just needs the head for—classified reasons." Tia is definitely disturbed. Montenegro is now amused. He takes a rum flask from the refreshments table, and he pours himself a jigger before sitting down facing Mac.

Monte speaks, "I like this rathskeller. I conduct business at this inn when I am unable to in my own home."

Mac wryly replies, "We Americans figured that Herr Cross might get nervous were we to discuss his assassination right in front of him,"

"Indeed he would," Montenegro snickers, "Herr Cross is not the bravest criminal mastermind. He seems somewhat skittish and—well—soft. I suspect that his father Darren Cross was more of the hard man in the family."

"Darren was a very big, hard man until SHIELD gunned him down," Mac replies, "Of course, Auggie's cousin Crossfire is still out there. He is—well—a threat of some sort."

"I should fear him, but I do not," Montenegro replies, "Augustine's first-cousin-once-removed is indeed Crossfire the acclaimed cutthroat. However, the Man from the Black Mountain has faced down Power Man and Iron Fist successfully twice [see _Power Man and Iron Fist_ #71 & 80]. What is Crossfire going to do?"

"Nothing," Agent Senyaka interjects, "Rumor has it that William Cross will not be a problem for a while." She apparently knows something that the men do not.

Mac breaks bread at the table shared with Montenegro. He offers the Swiss scoundrel some just as he wants to offer him a job, "Herr Montenegro, you sound interested in eliminating your houseguest. We shall pay you substantially if you do so."

"You will pay me a lot of bread, will you?" the killer makes a little joke.

"We shall pay you much more than Crossfire paid you to host and hide Augustine in the first place," the contractor assures the killer.

"All is agreed then. I will kill Augustine Cross," Montenegro pours three tall glasses of rum, "We should toast our arrangement."

"Thank you. Your country can be notoriously difficult to extradite from," Mac states, "We should just execute Auggie's death sentence here."

Montenegro calls Tia, "Judith, you should join us for a drink."

"We should plan our operation while imbibing," Mac smiles. Apparently, the Swiss mastermind does not know his country completely. Tia is not Judith Klemmer. Judith Klemmer is a SHIELD agent who operates around Geneva keeping an eye on the Frankensteins, of all things [see _Marvel Team-Up_ 36].

"Prost," Tia raises her glass. She hopes that folks say "prost" in Switzerland. They do in Germany.

Monte shakes his head. Judith knocks back hard on the hard liquor after seeming nervous this entire meeting. He hopes that she has the liver for the rum and the stomach for a liquidation. The three make plans over the next half-hour. Then, Montenegro trudges back up the mountain toward his chateau. The air is agreeably cool this Sunday evening in spring.

The cool air relieves Tia Senyaka's flushed face overheated with excessive rum. She leans out an open window at her hotel. Behind her, two colleagues murmur, and she catches bits of their conversation. Mac chats with surgeon Strike, balding and thin.

Dr. Strike states, "Montenegro is a good man—for the job."

Mac agrees, "He is able to get close to Cross without Cross panicking. Our usual hired guns could not get close so easily."

"Jack Hazzard would have been a lovely assassin to send. He can stop a man's heart like that [see _Daredevil_ #236]," Strike snaps his boney fingers, "Thanks to my neural implants."

"The U.S. government thanks you for all of your work, Dr. Strike," Mac acclaims, "Our superiors have deemed Auggie Cross a clear and present danger after finding those WMDs in Wisconsin. They were f***ing appalled."

"They were further f***ing appalled after SHIELD inspected CTE's records. They found that Augustine actually has a chip implanted deep in his brain and that this chip contains all data for reconstructing the WMDs, should they be commandeered. Thus, the CIA needs me to remove a head so that I can remove the head's brain and then dismember the brain," the dour doctor's glasses glint.

"I would think that you want to," Mac offers, "The implant is your stolen tech."

Dr. Strike admits, "Oh yes, the bisection is something that I want to do."

Tia breathes heavily at the window. She does not feel good. Mac approaches her to make her feel better.

"I want to thank you for your efforts too, Agent Senyaka," Mac pats her back.

"She is perhaps more like Agent Sen-yaaaacka," the cold physician quips.

Mac progresses the conversation, "I am impressed that SHIELD has contacts within Swiss national security. A gendarme reports a suspicious passport at the Zurich airport, and the information travels a chain all the way to Phil Coulson in the United States—looking for a hostis publicus."

"SHIELD profilers and psychics had predicted that Cross might flee to Switzerland. We do good work," Tia kneels on the floor and rests her head on the sill. Sometimes, a soldier does not feel so good.

In the morning, Monday is a fine April day. Augustine Cross arises late and enjoys some Swiss sweets at breakfast. Then, his host Montenegro suggests that the gent enjoy some physical activity to wake up. A bowling lane sits in the swank chateau's basement, and some light sport always offers a man a chance to feel alive. While kegling, Montenegro offers Augustine some rum to loosen the muscles and to toast the fine day. It is before noon, but Cross is game. After tenpins, the two acquaintances lounge in the study, and Montenegro produces a bottle of wine, amontillado perhaps. The outlaws swap stories. Monte tells tales of Power Man, Iron Fist, and friends. Auggie shares adventures about Ant-Man, Iron Man, and SHIELD, of course. Then, it is time for an early supper. The host serves a meal complete with sangria, and he insists that the two men pray an Our Father before eating. Eventually, flush-faced Auggie says that he would like to retire early. Montenegro thinks that a good idea. However, he suggests that Herr Cross first call his wife and child to say good night. While Cross speaks with family, Montenegro draws Auggie a bath. Augustine Cross has a great chat with his loved ones. Then, Montenegro drowns him in the tub. The magnate's lungs and bladder empty into the steaming water.

Dr. Strike and Agent MacKenzie visit soon after. Agent Senyaka does not join them.

"Thank you, Herr Montenegro. Drowning is a very good method for terminating someone. It preserves the body," Strike kneels beside the tub. He examines what he has here.

"I could have shot him with my piton gun or smashed a piolet into his stupid head, but I did not want blood getting around my clean home," Montenegro observes from the doorway.

"You won't mind blood in the tub. I hope," the doctor rolls-up his sleeves. He pulls the plug in the deep claw tub.

"No. Just wash it down when you are through," the mountain-man states.

Mac jumps-in, "Say, that is a fine antique tub. Doc and I should probably not use a really strong acid after removing the head. How do you want the main remains destroyed?"

"This dwelling's furnace is a decent crematorium," Monte remarks, "The smell gets through the house, but I have handled that problem before."

"Super," Mac shakes Montenegro's hand, "Enjoy the healthy remittance in your bank account."

"Please take a wheel of raclette cheese from the larder before you go," Montenegro is likewise gracious.

Dr. Strike positions the corpse in the tub, "Thank you, a person cannot always get raclette outside of Switzerland."

The Man from the Black Mountain returns to the study. He turns-on the television, and the evening news comes on. Today is Sechselaeuten in Zurich. The April celebration notes winter's end, and a silly character called the Boeoeg ceremoniously loses his head. Montenegro relaxes, and American visitors go about their business.


	16. Chapter 16: The Calm

**Chapter 16: The Calm**

"How is Augustine's widow?" Al "Mac" MacKenzie dares ask.

"She is fine. She wonders why her husband has not called her recently," Phil Coulson replies, "SHIELD has her under surveillance. We observe that she runs Cross Technologies Enterprises well and responsibly. We observe that she exhibits a more stable psyche than either her husband or father-in-law. Our organization is thinking of allowing her to run CTE in peace."

"Good, I had to consider assassinating her," Mac admits, "However, she sounds like she might not cause trouble for U.S. security."

"We'll keep you informed" Coulson watches a SHIELD tech move a ten-gallon container, "We'll also let you know when we need you to present evidence of her husband's death."

"You mean the head. The CIA doesn't have it anymore," Mac tersely states. He also considers the ten-gallon container.

"What?" the commander is befuddled, "What the hell do you mean? Who has Augustine's detached head?"

"No one," Mac throws up his hands, "Well, Dr. Strike has some cranial fragments lodged in his face."

Phil goes on, "Mrs. Cross will investigate her spouse's disappearance at some point. We need to leave the detached head for the Miami PD to find. It proves her missing husband's death, and it provides her emotional closure. Then, she can inherit Cross Technologies into her responsible hands. Then, we can have closure."

Mac explains, "Cross Technologies knew to booby-trap the implant in Auggie's noggin. The device blew-up when surgeon Strike attempted removing it. The ol' ghoulish sawbones lasted a while after the head blasted through his own. But no, both Cross and Strike are no more."

Phil ponders aloud, "Well, I am not pleased. But, Natasha Romanova will be. For some time, Black Widow has intended to kill Dr. Strike [see _Daredevil_ #247]."

"That is what I have always heard. We get all of the good gossip around here," Sam the technician types at a lab computer. In the background, technician Slim wheels cargo toward the warehouse beyond the laboratory.

Mac asks Cheese about Slim's cart, "What is on the flatbed? What bit of Cross contraband is that?"

Cmdr Coulson reveals, "That ten-gallon cube contains vials and vials of biological weapon confiscated from Darren's Oshkosh warehouse."

"HYDRA death-spore, typhoid fever, and entomopathogenics," Sam specifies.

"What do entomo-whatchamacallits do?" Mac queries.

"Massacre ants," Sam answers.

"Oh. I get it," says Mac, "What other serious WMDs were Darren and son stupidly keeping around, Phil?"

Coulson answers, "SHIELD seized also an operational nucleonic radiator. CTE has used the device in the past to fry people in groups and to create the menace Atom-Smasher. Additionally, we found nucleorganic technology in various stages of development. Nucleorganic innovation is what made Darren so mammoth and monstrous."

"Monster-making mattered to the Crosses," Sam remarks, "They had also the formula for bioengineering the Crusher."

"The who?" Mac wonders.

"A big, strong mutate such as dear, dead Darren," Phil enlightens, "During the Cold War, the Cuban government created a giant fighter called The Crusher. Iron Man cut him down to size during the era [see _Tales of Suspense_ #91], and Daredevil crushed him again when he showed-up at a later date [see _Daredevil_ #119]."

"Cross Technologies likely studied the old Cuban work to create their nucleorganic stuff," Sam speculates, "After all, they took Melter's old design and altered that."

Mac smirks, "I heard that Cheese here used the altered microwave device to melt Darren a bit."

Phil admits, "Yeah, I had Darren catch a heat bomb, and I made hash. The device was the hot potato, and his hands were the sizzling meat. It was cartoonish."

"Comedy gold," comments Mac to Cheese.

"But, do you know what was even more amusing than that?" Phil asks.

"We found Taboo the Thing from the Murky Swamp in Winnebago County, Wisconsin," Slim returns from the other room.

"GTFO!" Mac's eyebrows rise, "Taboo is a big blob monster that rampaged through Manhattan before the Fantastic Four even arrived [see _Strange Tales_ #77]!"

Slim points over his shoulder, "Taboo is compressed in a coffin in the next room like condensed soup in a can. Just add water for the Thing from the Murky Swamp."

The four g-men think Cross contraband to be the darnedest thing. They shake their heads and chuckle. In the shadows, Doorman eavesdrops on them. Camouflaged, the Great Lakes Champion has been here for their entire conversation. To him, recent events are not exactly the darnedest thing, for DeMarr Davis is an Angel of Death. He delivered the shades of Darren and Augustine Cross to Oblivion, you see. On one hand, father and son were a guilty men who had sent many people to Oblivion recently. On the other, the Crosses were human beings. Doorman departs using his powers. He emerges from an old wooden door at the top of old wooden steps some distance from the chucklers. A friend looks up at DeMarr.

"We just sent someone downstairs," says the friend.

Dolly the SHIELD tech enters the lab, "Walter Newell and Craig Hollis are upstairs,"

"Who?" queries Mac.

"Stingray and Mr. Immortal," educates Coulson, "I asked them to visit me sometime."

Sam frowns, "They tracked you to a secret base, commander."

Coulson is cool, "I am okay with that. The Avengers are resourceful folks, and I trust them. In fact, they are here to debrief about their activities nine weeks ago."

"They are the ones who brought Crossfire to justice," Mac surmises. The intelligence agent had heard of Crossfire's capture.

"Indeed. Let us not keep them waiting," Coulson leads the way into the corridor. Fluorescent lighting shines over polished tile. The government facility's hallway is pristinely kept. The two men walk to a tin-plated, dented, and dingy sliding door from a past era, perhaps seventy years ago. Beyond the door, the floor is dirt in a dim cellar lit by a few lightbulbs. The two climb rickety wooden steps leading to an old wooden door.

Phil and Mac step into the SHIELD barbershop. The inconspicuous barbershop is the front above for the top-secret facility below. Sometimes, SHIELD has barbershops operating over their bases. In street clothes, Craig Hollis sits in the Koken chair, and he brushes back his mad mop. Ex-ranger Coulson considers cutting that hirsute head. In street clothes, Walter Newell sits on an old Windsor chair across from Hollis. To his surprise, Coulson spots Doorman standing in the room. The master spy did not know that Doorman was present. Dolly draws down the shop's wide shade, and she flips the closed sign.

"Welcome to Creighton, West Virginia," the SHIELD officer shakes hands.

"Karl Kaufman," Alphonso MacKenzie introduces himself to these strangers. He takes a sucker from a shop jar.

"Thank you. We enjoyed our trip to these parts," Dr. Newell converses, "And, my wife Diane and our kids are presently enjoying exploring the town,"

Coulson is curious, "Walter, you _do_ realize that Creighton is kind of a ghost town because it suffers from low-level radioactive contamination, right?"

"No, I did not. We shall have to keep our visit brief," Newell shows surprise and concern.

"Do not worry too much. Some people do live here," Coulson acknowledges the poor.

Doorman acknowledges the radiation's cause, "Yeah, the military ran some experiments here during the Cold War [see _The Ultimate Silver Surfer_ OS]. Ever since, Creighton has had a very high cancer rate. I have met many of those patients."

Doorman operates mainly out of Milwaukee, so Phil Coulson cannot imagine where the champion has met Creighton's cancer victims. He does not know about the angel of death's transitional work. The intelligence man is a little puzzled. But, for now, Cmdr Coulson is merely glad for what he does know. SHIELD's Creighton facility is always secure, for Creighton itself has a "keep out" sign for a half-life.

Hollis breaks Coulson's brief cogitation, "So, Phil, would you like to hear about two Avengers' adventures on the perilous sea?"

"Yes, I would. I believe that you two captured Crossfire in the Florida Straits in late February," the spyboss takes a seat, "Give us the details."


	17. Chapter 17: Crosswind Conclusion Pt 1

**Chapter 17: Crosswind Conclusion, Part One**

At this debriefing, Cmdr Phil Coulson does not openly need a tape recorder. The SHIELD shop has plenty of recording devices in the walls.

The adventurer Stingray narrates a yarn. Walter Newell begins, "It was Tuesday, February 24th."

"I finally could purchase Big Hero 6 on blu-ray," Craig Hollis interjects.

Dr. Newell cracks a smile. He begins again, "The Crosses were making a break for Cuba. Perhaps, they believed that the adversarial nation would not readily extradite them back to the United States. Havana was to be their haven."

Hollis cuts in, "William and Inga Cross had conducted a yacht from Miami into the Florida Straits. We two Avengers had tracked them down."

"Stingray intercepted them," Walter says of himself.

The tale progresses from there. In late February, the Crosses near Havana on a sunny, halcyon day. Their 41-foot cruiser carries them south toward asylum. Inga Cross tans herself on the yacht's expansive bow. William Crossfire hums along to some P.J. James in the pilothouse. It is a perfect day to make a perfect getaway after terrorist activities in the U.S.

Then, Stingray crashes through the ship's bottom and up through the goddam deck. He takes the boat's goddam engine with him. Skipper Bill notices the boat slowing. Then, he spots Stingray aloft before the crippled watercraft. With acrimony, Stingray hoists the half-ton engine above his head and hurls the iron block down upon the man who ordered his wife and he kidnapped and bullied. The iron indents the pilothouse roof, but it does not crash through as intended. Mastermind Crossfire must have reinforced his bridge. That is fine. Stingray flies to the pilothouse's door.

The door is locked, of course. And, the lock does not break in Stingray's augmented hands; the doorhandle breaks off instead. Behind glass, Crossfire wags a finger at the Avenger. Stingray punches the "glass", but it is made of infrangible stuff. The cox unlocks a cupboard beside the instrument panel. Stingray blasts the glass with his high-voltage sting. The barrier remains intact. The sinister cyborg attaches something metallic to his hand from the cupboard.

Stingray pounds the door, "Come on out, you coward! You bastard! You ass!"

"Don't call my husband names! You leave him alone!" Inga Cross has flanked Stingray.

From behind, the former pro cheerleader tackles him—futilely. Mail gloves merely pulls-off her wrapping arms. The Avenger whips around. He would be glaring if his mask did not completely obscure his glowering features.

"Hi-ya!" the lithe lady kicks a foot into Walt's face while her other foot planted.

Stingray seizes her raised ankle, "Will you get out of here?" Irritated, he twirls her around above his head. He tosses her perfectly down the hatch into the bilge collecting below deck.

Behind him, someone taps hard on the bridge window. The hero turns to see William standing right by the locked door. Crossfire waves with his right hand while keeping his left one hidden.

Cross crows through the glass, "You know, Newell, I am a master of cool sonic weaponry that kills and maims, but there were other really cool bad guys before me." The door unlatches from the captain's side. Stingray prepares.

"One of them was named Klaw," Crossfire states, "Say hello to my little. . . . ." An ear-splitting blast emits from the gauntlet over Crossfire's left hand. The torrent knocks Stingray back one-hundred feet, and he enters the soup eighty feet away from the boat.

Crossfire turns his one good eye to the heavens, "Thank you, cousin Darren, for stealing technology from others such as Melter and Klaw. This knock-off superweapon proved most useful."

The yacht lists sharply at its stern. Crossfire remembers the hull breach. There is water entering below decks. And, he remembers that his wife is down there.

"Inga? Sweetie?" William moves towards the hatch.

"Hi-ya!" Inga does a flying snapkick in the squat cabin. Her foot cracks Mr. Immortal's cranium into the cabinets behind him. Bell rung, Craig crashes facefirst into the bilge. He remembers the minute before this rough moment.

Mr. Immortal trailed Stingray in a mini-sub that the aquatic Avenger had provided. The plan was that Stingray would attack the cruiser first. Then, Mr. Immortal would arrive to help him. As planned, Stingray pranged the stern. The mini-sub propelled forward and parked beneath the sinking yacht. Through the breach, the Great Lakes Champion entered _The Polyphemus_. _The Polyphemus_ was the name on the escutcheon. He popped-up through the cracked keel. A blonde in a bikini dropped in from above.

For a moment, she was face-down in water. And, Mr. Immortal moved to her rescue, "Ma'am? Do you need rescuing?"

She must be Crossfire's wife Inga the cheerleader. She was very svelte. Despite himself, the hero admired her. Then, the she-possum sprang up. Inga kneed Immortal's abdomen hard. The boat listed suddenly astern, and the Avenger was further disconcerted. The angry jill flying snapkicked his skull hard into the cabinets behind him. He fell face-down into the gathering brine.

Mrs. Cross yanks the superman up by his hair. He is on his knees. Inga brings a knife from the galley to his throat. "I am Inga Cross. Prepare to die!" she announces.

"That won't hurt me, you know," comments Mr. Immortal.

"I am Klaw! Prepare to die!" announces someone unexpected.

Inga and Craig turn to look. On the companionway, Fantastic Four foe Klaw stands with crackling gauntlet. Both fighters are amazed to see Klaw and wonder how he got here. Sans a sound, Klaw fires his weapon. The sonic blast whips Inga's hair, shivers her body, and removes her top. Unceremoniously, the force flings her forward into the yacht's sinking back. She does not look good. But, Craig is still seaworthy. She was between him and Klaw's cannon; therefore, her body mostly protected Immortal from the blast. The Avenger goes into avenging mode. He puts up his dukes.

"I am Klaw! Prepare to die!" Klaw announces again. He raises his prosthesis.

A right and a left go right through Klaw, and Mr. Immortal realizes that killer Klaw is but a hologram. The slugger sidesteps. The gauntlet discharges again. Sound waves crash through the boatbody, and the sea comes crashing into the cruiser through a second hole. The cascade carries Inga violently forward, and the Caribbean slams the limp lass hard into the companionway. From the deck, her William sees her. Crossfire's eye widens and his jaw drops. His wife does not look good.

Before Immortal's eyes, counterfeit Klaw flickers and disappears. The hero valiantly mounts the steps toward topside. Unbeknownst to Craig, suffusing saltwater has knocked-out the knock-off Klaw device designed by Cross Tech. Crossfire had placed it on the companionway. He knew that it projected a scary Klaw hologram. He did not know that the sonic weapon would repeatedly discharge while Inga was in harm's way. May Augustine be beheaded and burned for misguidance.

Enraged, Crossfire points a handgun into the hatch, "Die, Immortal!" Crossfire puts one precisely through Mr. Immortal's pump. Into the deep blue sea, crimsoned Craig collapses dead—temporarily.

A moment before, Stingray revives in the drink. Klaw's ray really stung him. He rubs his rattled ribs. Briefly, he looks around. To his surprise, someone approaches from the north. The person is almost upon him, but the incomer might be a friendly. The diver propulsion vehicle (dpv, for short) is the type used by U.S. special forces. And, the pilot looks like special forces when he passes. Except, for the speargun. That armament is atypical. Also, a U.S. military operation is unusual directly off Havana's shoreline. Dr. Newell wonders who the hard charger could be. Stingray takes off after the dpv. Then, the Avenger spots his comrade sinking out of the boat bottom. Ichor massively hemorrhages from his chest. Stingray races to him.

Crossfire rushes to his wife in the rising water. Blood floats from her ears and nose, and her bones are not aligned. Hopefully, Inga does not feel when William cradles her broken body. The entire vessel is swiftly disappearing into the brackish brine. However, Crossfire knows that he and his dear will survive if they can only get to the craft's inflatable raft and the first aid kit. The first aid kit could prove especially important. The helper makes haste, and he moves his darling for dry deck.

Suddenly, a jolting pain enters his lower leg. Looking down, Crossfire sees a fishing spear impaled through his ankle. Could he be in any more anguish? Abruptly, a silver blade springs from the water, and a strong arm stabs a knife into Billy's gut. Punisher emerges out of the blue and removes his scuba's regulator. Then, he yanks free the cold steel. The Michaels family will be avenged.

"I'm the Punisher. Prepare to die," he says to Crossfire.

"Does my wife have to die too?" Crossfire takes a knee, "Did you ever have a wife?"

For a second's fraction, Maria crosses Frank's mind. In a jiffy, Crossfire draws his 9mm. Instantaneously, Punisher reacts. Crossfire fires. The bullet shatters the commando's earpiece instead of his brow. Frank Castle reels in discombobulation. Elsewhere, Eddie Dyson is confused too. He just lost radio contact with Castle. Lynn Michaels asks if anything is wrong. She conducts a speedboat swiftly southward toward Crossfire's location.

Crossfire cannot believe this f***ed situation. Desperately, he crawls up the deck tilting toward the unforgiving sea. With Herculean effort, he drags his mangled wife by her lovely hair toward the bridge, where lies aid. With a primal scream, he ignores the agony of a visceral wound and the wound left after removing a barbed spear. The ex-CIA agent and international boogeyman has some hardness to him. Then, he sees the hard luck before him, and his heart sinks. One of Earth's mightiest heroes is between him and the pilothouse.

Stingray holds dead Mr. Immortal in his arms. Walter Newell speaks to him, "Craig, I know that the light has left your eyes. And, you look drowned and exsanguinated. But, you're going to be okay, okay?" Stingray cannot believe this f***ed-up situation.

"Hey man," Crossfire gets Stingray's attention, "Do you have a wife?"

"You know that I do. You had her kidnapped," Stingray says with some irritation.

Crossfire wipes his eye, "Would you mind saving mine? Please, get the captain's first aid kit."

Stingray shakes his head, "Yeah, okay"

The protector spots Punisher standing behind Crossfire. Punisher aims his reloaded speargun. Stingray's gauntlet zaps the vigilante and shocks him unconscious. The hero shakes his head again. He guesses that he is willing to save all sorts of lives. In the pilothouse, he finds the kit.

Weary William entreats, "Please take the morphine from the box and administer it to my wife. Then, you can transport us out of here. My ship is sinking." The yacht descends into the Straits. Soon, it will founder.

"We should all be alright," Stingray assures, "I see two parties approaching us. One from the north. One from the south. We might not want that one from Cuba, though." Crossfire smiles back despite his pain. Curiously, he is smiling.

"I found the morphine," Dr. Newell produces the clearly-labeled syringe. Its contents enter Inga's discolored, swollen arm. She groans. Concerned, the good Samaritan observes her.

Unexpectedly, _The Polyphemus_ finally sinks. Without warning, she pitches ninety degrees straight-up. Mr. Immortal's corpse drops into the water. Punisher plunges. Stingray and his patient slide back toward the churning sea. He grabs her. Surprisingly, she grabs him back—surprisingly hard. Crossfire grabs the gunnel tight. The one-eyed jack grimaces and growls at gallants and the sea. Into the agitated sea, the wreck goes under and takes Captain Cross to the locker.


	18. Chapter 18: Crosswind Conclusion Pt 2

**Chapter 18: Crosswind Conclusion, Part Two**

"Holy cow," exclaims the old dairy farmer. Tim Mulrooney peers through binoculars at what just happened. Lynn has halted the speedboat, and it progressively slows to a stop.

"The bastard's boat sank," Eddie Dyson notes, "That's good. I wish that Lester were here to see this." Lester Michaels is a tough army veteran, a warrior. But, he is also a dairy farmer, and his cows need daily care back up-north. So, oh well.

"The Cuban navy is almost to the site. That's not good," Lynn points.

"Where's Frank?" Eddie asks. The Punisher could kick some ass and take some names.

Under the sea, Punisher assesses who he has with him. He has replaced his scuba gear's regulator. Mr. Immortal bobs beneath the waves, and the hero appears dead. Crossfire also bobs beneath the sea's surface, but the villain appears yet alive. Some ten-foot naked ogress is also down here. And, she is very much alive as she knocks around Stingray. Stingray looks alive as he fights for his life. Punisher decides to help him. Crossfire will soon drown anyway, God willing.

Stingray decks the giantess hard before propelling backward. At a short distance, he blasts her with both "barrels". The intense electricity fulgurates in the dark water. Punisher shields his eyes from the shimmer. The creature bellows like a leviathan. She claps her hands titanically. And, the shockwave knocks Stingray end-over-end. His gauntlets flash and fizzle though overheated and shorted. Stingray will not be using his sting again anytime soon. He uses his suit's propulsion to slow himself and regain his pitch. The aquaman sees that he is away from the she-creature by hundreds of feet. He takes a moment, for the spinning has left him dizzy.

Punisher moves in. He must at least buy the Avenger some time. If able, Punisher must kill this threat. To this purpose, the vigilante has a knife and a grenade. And, he will use scuba tanks as bombs if he has to. He has seen Jaws. BAM! Inga swats Frank so hard that he exits the ocean's surface above. A nearby patrol boat moves to retrieve him.

Under the sea, Inga swims like a sea creature in her grotesque state. Her monstrous muscles cover distance in no time. Like a whale, she rams Stingray. She carries him ever deeper until they mightily impact the floor's muck.

"Crusher crush you!" Inga booms in the dark depths far below the sunlight.

Stingray remembers the Crusher very vaguely from his Avengers Files. The Cubans once made a mutate that Iron Man combated. Apparently, Cross Tech rediscovered the formula. The new Crusher tears the steel mask of Newell's invincible exoskeleton. And, everything goes black. Dr. Newell just figures that he dies.

Until later. A Cuban sailor slaps Walter awake. The bloodshot eyes in his aching head see Punisher and Mr. Immortal looking back at him. Both are alive and alert in a steel room with a single lightbulb. Dr. Newell presumes that they are on a ship. Of course, the three revolutionary seamen were a dead giveaway. He glances. The three Americans wear steel shackles upon their wrists and ankles. They are prisoners of the Cubans alright. Newell inhales past the blood clogging his nose. His head clearing, he deduces that his supersuit must still work. How did he survive the depths otherwise? He must have impulsively jetted to the surface. Stingray gets up. He tears the chains from his arms and legs.

"No, no, no, no," a sailor aims a rifle into his exposed face.

The Avenger brushes the rude rifle aside. He reasons with his captor, "Yes, yes. You need to accept my help. You have a monster and a terrorist nearby. They could cause problems for Cuba."

"Hey!" a jailer snaps fingers at Stingray. He aims a barrel at Punisher's head.

"I wouldn't," warns the Punisher, "I might come back as an avenging angel or Frankenstein's Monster or something."

"Death doesn't really scare me," Mr. Immortal tells his similar potential executioner.

"I am sure that my men do not especially scare you at all," an officer opens the brig door, "Mr. Immortal, Punisher, Stingray." He steps into the cramped cell.

"Captain, we Americans are only here to protect the Cuban people," Captain Castle rises, "An international terrorist was on his way to Havana. We sought to eliminate him and be on our way. Instead, our battle turned messy, and your patrol boat had to respond."

"Crossfire is not even dead. Our medics treat him currently," the captain shocks the heroic trio.

Then, something shocks everyone. An explosion resounds 500-feet off port. "What the hell was that?" thinks everyone. "Ataque!" squawks the captain's walkie. The captain's crew spots a speedboat fast approaching. The Pauk corvette patrol boat prepares her 30mm rotary cannons. They will shred the incomer to flotsam.

"Halt your ship!" Lynn Michaels announces over her craft's radio microphone.

"Halt your vessel!" a seaman warns back in Spanish.

"Whoooo!" old Tim Mulrooney smiles broadly beside a smoking mortar, ""Did you see that shell that I put on shore?! I was a child soldier during World War II. Captain Tim has still got it!"

"This is insane," Eddie "Payback" Dyson mans an M2HB machine gun on the bow. The breakneck boat rhythmically bounces and tosses him high as it chops through the Pauk's large wake.

The two "warships" race each other along Havana Harbor's one-mile entrance channel. Payback's Browning strafes the surface before the corvette's bow. Eddie hopes that Lynn knows what she is doing. Lynn hopes that the Cubans surrender and then surrender the three prisoners. Then, the Michaels group can be on its way. Eddie, Lynn, and Tim all hope that no one needs be killed. But, the Punisher group does mean business. Lynn steers the swift speedboat into the corvette's path. She eyes the armed men on the bow, and they glare back at her. Captain Tim swings his M1 Garand to his shoulder. The rifle is heavier than it used to be.

Captain Herrera boldly strides to the fore. He is not worried that the raiders might shoot him. He raises a bullhorn to his teeth, "Encroachers, state your business."

"Return our people," an amplified voice demands.

"These people?" Herrera points over his shoulder. Stingray and his two comrades come into view.

Walter cups his hands and yells, "We're okay! I'll prove it!" The exoskeleton's hands take Punisher's wrists and shatter the shackles. Frank waves to friends. The proud revolutionary mariners look displeased.

The tars are almost as vexed as the ten-foot tall creature traveling through the mud forty-feet below them. Her feet stomp outbursts of silt into the filthy, polluted water before her. The waters are thick with dirt, chemicals, and garbage. Crusher makes her way into Havana Harbor. Inga grabs a large sheet of tarpaulin as it swirls past. Her stupid spouse destroyed what little clothing she had on. First, he shot her with a sonic blaster that carried away her bikini top. Then, he shot her up with Crusher formula that popped her bikini bottom. Now, she places her foot down. By her charge, her upcoming rampage will have violence but no sex. She rips the trash atwain and covers herself. Wrapped, she stomps off to have her tantrum in her bandeau and diaper.

Eddie Dyson could just crap. He really could. He is pleased that the three allies are in-sight and unfettered. Don't get him wrong. But, he is also extremely anxious about this Mexican stand-off with the Cuban navy. The Michaels boat has a couple of guns (one a machine gun, granted) fixed on the Cuban crew. However, the patrol boat has many guns and a few missiles fixed upon the Michaels crew. Cap. Herrera can order them blown to Hell at any time. The three desperados will not even get a chance to storm the opposing vessel and take down its forty men. Of course, two Avengers and one Punisher would aid their effort.

"I am unsure that you understand our cause, captain," Mr. Immortal pleas, "As we told you, we are only here to protect Cuba from Crossfire and his mean wife." Mr. Immortal is the leader of the Great Lakes Champions. Perhaps, his charisma can successfully negotiate this ticklish situation.

"Sir," Herrera sighs, "My orders are to take you in for interrogation. You caused a great disturbance off of the republic's peaceful shores."

Mr. Immortal persists, "We Avengers only assembled to stop a deviant from infiltrating your peaceful nation."

"Also, we wished to kill a man," Punisher makes clear.

Cap. Herrera makes clear, "You three should be happy that we treat you well. Normally, our interrogation subjects remain bound. Although, granted, we cannot keep you restrained. You keep breaking the damn chains."

Prof. Newell butts in, "Captain, a big disturbing threat just landed in your unperturbed country." Stingray juts a finger.

The Avenue of the Port moves traffic along Havana Harbor's shore. From the harbor, a boulder volleys over that traffic. It pancakes a green '59 Dodge. A black '55 Futura stops to check the crushed driver. The Crusher leaps from the water and bats the Futura backwards into a gold '51 woody, totally splintering it. Then, Crusher smashes savagely a '36 Cord convertible. She flings the wreckage from the road. Panicked motorists are also taking flight—by any way that they can. The giantess rips-up some firmament and hurls it like a discus. The crumbling asphalt cannonballs into the water mere rods from the boats of Herrera and Michaels. The Cubans view the rampaging superhuman on the shoreline. It would seem that America has exported one of its common problems.

Shaking his head, Cap. Herrera states, "It's plain. This is a job for supermen. Go."

Stingray flies up, up, and away. But, not before hooking Mr. Immortal and Punisher by their collars. He will need help against the Crusher. Fellow hero Craig can provide that. In contrast, loose cannon Castle will likely cause chaos. Stingray does not need that, so he drops Frank from about fourteen-feet up. Punisher hits Lynn's deck hard.

"Motherf***er!" Punisher feels his back.

"Hang on! The Avengers need our aid," Lynn guns the engines and whips the watercraft 'round. Eddie and old Tim nearly fly from the boat. Lady Punisher tears toward Lady Crusher.

Stingray arrives in Parque Luz Caballero, where the Crusher stands. Like a caballero knight, he stands boldly before an ogre. Like a man-at-arms, he raises his mighty gauntlet. Then, he feels like an idiot. His blasters still don't work. Crusher thwacks cavalier Stingray through the air with the palm tree that she just uprooted. He lands in mid-harbor. Upon surfacing, he spits filthy water from the mouth of his recently torn mask.

Crusher drops her whopping club when Mr. Immortal jumps on her. From behind, he leapfrogs onto her shoulders. Then, the paladin punches the miscreation right in the eye. "AAAAAH!" reverberates across the harbor and over the vicinity. The brute punches back at her pest. Acrobatically, Mr. Immortal flips away. Crusher wallops herself in the head. "Aaaaah" sounds as she staggers drunk with punch. Her feet return her to the avenue. With a running start, the Avenger launches a flying sidekick at the hulk before him. He bounces off her with a jolt.

From the ground, Mr. Immortal sees Crusher raise her fists above him like an angered ape. "Crusher crush," she announces her intentions.

From above, something terrible falls, but it is not Crusher's fists. Rather, a mortar shell arrives, and it blows both man and she-beast skyward. Mr. Immortal's body flips end-over-end before hitting flotsam and dead fish in the harbor shallows. Crusher goes up and comes down headfirst into concrete. On his ship, Cap. Herrera too smacks his head. You see, a traffic tunnel runs beneath the Avenue of the Port, and that explosion just endangered the citizens within it. The Cuban captain knows and fears that the American cowboys are about to cause much damage to his beloved Havana. From the runabout, Captain Tim gives a whoop.

Reaching the shore, Mr. Immortal gives a whoop too. "Eeeew-whee! I didn't die for once," says he.

"You're gonna," says the voice of Gargantua. She stands towering at the shore's edge.

"Oh, Neptune!" the immortal beholds a god against the sky.

"May he crush you," Crusher has torn-up a statue of Neptune that overlooks Havana's harbor. She flings the art atop Avenger, and all plummets beneath the bay. Herrera cringes at the monument's fall.

Then, Payback opens up with the Browning machine gun. Automatic fire prickles Crusher's skin, and she roars ragingly. Errant bullets whiz past her and toward a museum and a church behind her. The barrage chips the masonry and shatters the windows of the centuries-old buildings. The automatic fire consumes artifacts and endangers sheltering citizens.

Aghast Cap. Herrera has seen enough. His walkie dispatches orders to his crew. His binoculars witness further havoc as Crusher flees the stinging salvo and runs toward the Feria de la Artesania, an art mall. The automatic fire decimates art for sale and the beautiful façade of the building. Herrera grits his teeth hard.


	19. Chapter 19: Crosswind Conclusion Pt 3

**Chapter 19: Crosswind Conclusion, Part Three**

At the Avenue of the Port, Lynn stops the boat. Punisher jumps to shore: Uzi in hand, machete on hip, grenades on other hip. Undoubtedly, he is outmatched. This conflict is man versus monster. But, Frank Castle is a hard-charging sort who adapts, improvises, overcomes. And, he has overcome past freakish marvels such as Wolverine, Dr. Doom, and Rhino. It is his mission to overcome Inga Cross, the criminal Crusher.

"I'm going to bring down Nancy Archer," Frank cocks his weapon.

"That's an Attack of the 50 Foot Woman reference," notes old Mulrooney.

"Well good, I'm going to bring up the Avengers from the Black Lagoon," Lady Punisher indicates the dingy harbor. Both Punishers charge toward their goals. Lady Punisher scans the water's surface for distressed Avengers.

Her ally Eddie sees something else. "Um, Lynn, you might want to look left, sweetie," he motions.

Herrera's Pauk is 150-feet straight off port. On its deck, a sailor does some fine machine-gunning. His Soviet KPV maims the Michaels outboard with surprising precision. Then, the 187-foot attack vessel turns, and her pilot expertly throws a wake upon skipper Michaels and her crew. The wave capsizes them and puts them under the drink. Beneath the surface, they are shocked to see the Pauk's prow bear down upon them. The Cuban cutter slices and scatters their cigarette boat like tobacco crop. At that moment, the captain is immensely proud of his crew. In the distance, revolutionary army jeeps approach, and the naval boss is proud of them too. His countrymen responded swiftly to a crisis.

Beneath the Cuban corvette, this is not American Stingray's proudest moment. He has lost face from his reputation. He has lost the face from his armor, and exposure threatens to drown the simulated Sub-Mariner. As Namor would, noble Stingray jets determinedly for the surface to chase Crusher. But, simple seawater has seeped throughout Dr. Walter Newell's normally sealed supersuit. With a sizzle, it shorts badly. Six stories above land, the aquatic Avenger convulses in electrocution. He falls paralyzed and shocked. His plummeting form punctures the roof of St. Mary's cathedral and plows through the antique pews within. The dumb damage should be a sin.

"Crusher crush!" Crusher collapses an old brick wall of the Feria de la Artesania. She stomps and thrashes forward through the art and trees in her path. She stomps the idyllic courtyard's tiles to shards and slightly craters the ground.

"Hey, ugly!" Punisher has arrived, "Stop destroying crap."

The madman attacks the beast. His Uzi ammo irritates her skin, but it is ineffective upon her. It does destroy some more crap, though. For instance, a stray bullet hits a propane tank, and the tank explodes. The concussion breaks stuff. The flash produces an inferno. In the infernal light, Crusher growls like a devil, and she charges like a minotaur. Like a matador, Castle unsheathes his long blade and sidesteps the galloping beast. His machete hacks into flesh. It sticks fast in a forearm as dense as hell. Frank holds tight to the machete's hilt as the Crusher careens forward. Crusher crashes Punisher through a wall when she goes through herself. They are now in San Ignacio Street, where traffic has halted. She swats the pest from her arm. He tumbles into the dirt. Like a Cuban outfielder, Castle rolls, stands, and throws. Crusher bats the grenade high, and it lands in someone's nice 1960 Corvette convertible. The explosion explodes the gastank, and flaming metal parts rain from the sky. Punisher re-hits the dirt. Crusher strolls forward through the metal rain and the acrid smoke.

"Crusher crush you!" she announces intention.

Punisher stands again and again throws a grenade. Crusher swats it with fury, and it sails far away. The detonation damages something. Enraged, Crusher wrests the machete from her flesh, and she sidearms it at her foe. The leatherneck hits the dirt again. The whirling blade sails overhead, and it rends a sidewalk fruit and egg stand, making an awful mess. Punisher spies the convertible's driverseat lying in the street. He brings it into this streetfight.

In this deathmatch, Punisher hits Crusher with a chair. Crusher knocks the foreign object from his hands, and it sails south through someone's hotel window. The Crusher bodyslams Punisher to the ground. Hopping up, she drops an atomic elbow on him. The champion is in real trouble. A gorilla roars over him. Fires roar around him. And, pandemonium has broken loose. The Crusher climbs a nearby façade. She prepares her coup de grace. Crusher's going to crush him flat. What are you going to do when a hulking maniac comes down on you? Inga "the Crusher" Cross springs into the sky. On the ground, Frank "the Punisher" Castle prepares to join his late wife Maria. From nowhere, a missile arrives and intercepts the cross Mrs. Cross in mid-air. The Soviet Styx rockets her away over the land past Havana. Momentarily, it detonates verily above the countryside. Through binoculars, proud Cap. Herrera watches a smoking body fall to the earth.

Anon, proud Cap. Herrera stands akimbo over Americans Lynn, Eddie, and Tim sitting in the mud along the shore. "Yankees, go home," he pronounces.

Toward Herrera, the army's Arturo Guttierez marches Mr. Immortal at Makarov pistol point. The intelligence officer shakes his head, "Ay! We find more damned garbage in the harbor."

The army's Luisa Prohias marches Dr. Walter Newell forth in his skivvies. Over Walt's shoulders, Punisher hangs barely able to walk. Behind them, fires burn on structures and property. The intelligence officer declares, "We find the damned in the cathedral and the street as well."

Lynn points to the heavens, "Hey, are those Sentinels flying in from the southeast?" There appear to be two giant flying robots in the distance.

Herrera answers, "No, Cuba has no more Sentinels after the American X-Men infiltrated our country. The X-Men too desolated our property [see _Mystique_ #3-6]."

Lynn responds, "I say that I see Sentinels. Internet rumors say that there are Sentinels in Cuba too."

"Well, you need to be careful about snooping around the internet," Mr. Immortal breaks-in, "Take it from Mr. Immortal. Sometimes, curiosity almost kills a cat." Craig winks to remind Lynn about how they met.

The Sentinels took a while to arrive from Bayamo, southeast of Havana. The military stores the weapons there. The dynamic drones descend into the smoking tobacco fields where Crusher landed. Soon, sounds of battle are heard, and parts of robots are seen sailing above the horizon. The revolutionary officers tell the captured visitors that there is nothing to see. They guide the six into a commandeered tourist bus. Agents Guttierez and Prohias ride along.

"Where are we going?" detective Eddie Dyson inquires.

"You are going home," agent Prohias communicates, "We are taking you to Jose Marti International Airport."

"Why not hand us over to the friendlies at Guantanamo Bay?" Punisher wonders.

"We don't like dealing with Americans," Guttierez states plainly.

"But, do not fret," Luisa Prohias says, "You boobs go into friendly hands."

Some nations have healthy relations with many other nations. Wakanda knows how to have ties to both Cuba and the United States, for instance. At the airport, the Cuban military hands over the American fighters to Wakandan security and politicians. They are departing after visiting Washington D.C. and Havana. Their next diplomatic visit is in Brazil, and they will escort the troublemakers there. How the heroes get home is the heroes' concern. King T'Challa and his plane depart with fellow crimefighters to keep him company. SHIELD's Gitmo personnel never get to debrief the Avengers and Punishers after their Caribbean sojourn. Walter Newell and Craig Hollis come see Coulson at a later date.

Meanwhile, William "Crossfire" Cross lies in a Havana hospital bed. The authorities will deal with him after his perforated leg and gut heal a wee. He considers to himself whether his present circumstances might be karma. After all, he did put Lynn Michaels in the hospital and Mr. Immortal on ice several times recently. He sips some orange juice and wishes that the staff had not confiscated his cybernetic eye.

On that blindside, someone speaks, "Good morning, Mr. Cross. I am Arturo Guttierez."

Crossfire turns his head, "You're government security. I have a good eye for such things."

"Indeed, I am," Guttierez grins, "Do not be surprised that I snuck-up on you. I once outfoxed Captain America [see _Captain America_ v. 4 #24]."

Cross scoffs, "That's nothing. I have done that a bunch of times."

An orderly enters the room. Guttierez glares, "This is a private interview, idiot."

"Remember the _Maine_ ," says the orderly.He draws a large pistol. Without hesitation, he pumps six rounds into Arturo—who drops dead. The entire time, the sidearm makes absolutely no noise. It flashes, but it is perfectly silent.

Crossfire is curious, "You know, I once had an agent with a similar weapon. He always wore a mask, and I never saw his face. Then, Hawkeye apparently killed him. Are you him?"

"Silencer is dead [see _Hawkeye_ LS] to the best of my knowledge," the assassin answers, "However, we like his CTE-designed armament. This is a nifty little lethal weapon that the Crosses designed. You guys have made many cool devices over the years." The gunman hands Crossfire the gun—and his confiscated bionic eye.

"Who is we?" Crossfire wants to know his benefactor.

"Did you know that AIM is very active in the Caribbean?"

Crossfire places his eye, "Of course, I knew that. I am a spymaster."

At a later date, a different spymaster examines his two incognito visitors. "You did good work, guys," Coulson compliments, "You waited too long to debrief. It is now May 1st. But, you did good work."

"Thank you," say the Avengers in unison.

"You did a good and necessary deed too," Coulson tells MacKenzie. Switzerland was some grim stuff.

"Just doing my job," Mac fires back.

Coulson rises, "I'll let everyone know when SHIELD needs you next for . . . . ." The commander's communicator sounds. Captain Ultra calls from Chicago. He has discovered the Circus of Crime operating nefariously out of an abandoned warehouse on the southside. And, they have two Death-Throws with them. Super Ultra is unsure whether he can take down such a large number by himself. Is there anyone in the Midwest who can help him? Cmdr Coulson knows a team that can assist. Mr. Immortal, Doorman, Big Bertha, Flatman, Spider-Woman, Mockingbird, Lady Punisher, Payback, and Captain Ultra go kick some ass.


End file.
